


Of Shadows and Moonlight

by Xion5



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xion5/pseuds/Xion5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barely one year after Pitch's defeat to the Guardians, the forces of the darkness change. But when he finds the cause of this change, it will not only turn his life upside down, but could very well cause his once black and lifeless heart to start beating again. Can this fallen Angel change Pitch for the better? Just who is this child, born of the shadows and moonlight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Prologue:

Pitch Black

It hadn't even been one year since Pitch's defeat at the hands of the Guardians. Not even one year since he had been turned on by his own accursed nightmares, and dragged back down into his lair. He had been so close, so close to getting rid of those accursed Guardians once and for all! He would've won, he would've completely destroyed all belief in those arrogant fools. Had it not been for him. That frosted little brat! He was the one flaw, the one stain in his otherwise flawless plan that he hadn't considered, and it was what had done him in.

But how could he have considered it? He was nothing; it didn't even cross his mind that Jack Frost would be involved in all this. He'd been abandoned by the Guardians, and their precious moon for 300 years. No one could've predicted that he would have been involved. But Pitch still couldn't understand it. Frost should've hated the Guardians! They could've cared less about his existence until the moon told them he was to be a Guardian. Yet, he had the nerve to turn Pitch down! Even after they turned on him during Easter, he still refused Pitch's offer to join him. If it hadn't been for him and that accursed last light Jamie Bennett, his victory would've been assured.

But no matter, he had all the time in the world to get his revenge on the Guardians. He would be back, he would always be back. There will always be fear, and he would see the world shrouded in it, even if it took him the rest of eternity. He would bring about a new dark age, and he wouldn't stop until he saw the world cowering in fear…..

Or so he thought. But, little did he know, that his life, the lives of the Guardians, the very forces of darkness itself, were about to be changed forever.

Tsar Lunar, the Man in the Moon

It was time, and Tsar Lunar knew it. Pitch had come too close. Too close to defeating the Guardians, and far too close to destroying the lights of the world's children.

Something had to be done. The senseless fighting had to stop.

Tsar Lunar was no fool. He knew how much the world needed the darkness, how much it needed fear. Fear protected people; it kept them from doing stupid and dangerous things. Without fear wars would constantly be raging, children would wander off into the forest's at night or onto a busy road. Without fear of death, we would have no reason to fight and survive. Without fear the world would not know courage. Though too much fear would be just as devastating as no fear at all. He knew that very well. Fear was necessary. Pitch Black was necessary. But there must always be a balance. For every shadow, there must be a light to keep the dangers of the darkness at bay. Just as for every light, a shadow must be created to keep the light from burning to brightly only to go out in the end.

However, neither Pitch, nor the Guardians seem to realize this. Ever since the dark ages the balance of light and darkness has been tipped back and forth, time and time again. But, it has gone too far this time. Nearly all light in the world was destroyed, and the world was just barely saved from being thrown back into the dark ages.

"This war has to end. If it doesn't, I fear the next battle will destroy the world's balance altogether. It doesn't matter who would win, the light or the darkness, the world wouldn't be able to survive losing either."

With a heavy sigh Tsar Lunar composed himself, he looked down, smiling fondly at the small bundle of blankets he was holding gently. No, he would not allow that to happen. He wouldn't allow this suffering to occur, especially not to the children. He knew what he had to do. But still he was hesitant, and couldn't help but feel anxious about what was about to occur. He pushed those emotions aside; he could not allow that to stop him from doing what he knew had to be done. He had faith, and he had hope. He knew it would be hard, but also knew that everything will be the way it's supposed to be when this was over. He could feel it, as North would say 'in his belly.'

Carefully cradling the small bundle in his arms, he made his way to the highest open balcony of his palace, where Nightlight was waiting for him.

Now Nightlight, being the man in the moon's oldest friend, as well as his Guardian, had every faith in him. But that did not stop him from feeling very unsure about this plan.

Now like Jack Frost, Nightlight was a being of fun, mischief and happiness. Because of that, he rarely felt anxious or nervous about anything. He actually couldn't remember the last time he felt this way. But he knew one thing for sure, he didn't like it. He knew exactly how dangerous and maniacal Pitch was. He had been trapped inside his cold, un-beating heart for centuries! He had tried to turn Tsar Lunar into a Fearling Prince, and Katherine into a Fearling Princess! He had tried to destroy the Guardians more times than he would care to remember.

So, knowing what was about to happen, what he was about to do, it left him feeling like his chest was being crushed, and his insides were being strangled. He felt suffocated, and he felt something that he had not felt in hundreds of years, something that he felt only a few times before. He felt fear.

Fear for her. About what Pitch might do to her. He didn't like this, he didn't like it one bit.

He had been watching her for the past few days since she first arrived. The man in the moon asked him to take care of her while everything was being prepared. He had watched over and cared for her, just as he had done for MIM when he was a baby. And he quickly grew attached to her, and very protective. He saw her in the same sort of way he had once seen the man in the moon, but also in a different way, a way he didn't understand. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling.

Nightlight never had siblings, or any family really, besides the man in the moon and his parents. So he didn't realize that what he felt was the love an older brother would feel for his little sister. Though Nightlight wasn't sure what he was feeling, the man in the moon did. He knew just how hard this was for Nightlight, how much he cared for the child. This was even harder on Nightlight than it was on himself. When he had first told Nightlight of his intentions, to say that he was shocked would be the understatement of the century. He went to a state of morbid panic and shock, as did all the moonbeams. Though they were flickering, murmuring to one another, and flying around in mass hysteria. Trying to figure out why in the name of the constellations their master would do such a thing. While Nightlight just stood there, looking at the Tsar is if he had just been slapped. When the moonbeams finally settled down, and MIM explained his reasoning for all of this, they joined in with Nightlight and just looked at him like he'd lost his freaking mind.

But still, they knew he was right. Plus it wasn't like any of them could go against him anyway. They couldn't even if they wanted to, which they never would. Nightlight especially, he was the man in the moon's Guardian, and closest friend. He knew that he would've never made a decision like this unless it was absolutely necessary. He trusted the Tsar completely. But that still didn't stop them from feeling the way he was now.

Nightlight gave a small, almost forced smile as he saw Tsar Lunar approach. MIM return the smile, though it was just as forced as Nightlight's. He slowly and very gently handed the bundle over to Nightlight. Both treating it with such care one would think that they were handling glass. Nightlight's smile faded altogether when he looked down on it. His face showing the pure sorrow he felt about having to see her go, and about what was waiting for her. MIM saw how much pain his friend was in, and gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know old friend. But it's what has to be done. If anyone has hope of being able to change him, it's her. She's the only one who can set things right, all we can do now is believe in her. Believe that this will all turn out right. But we will always be watching over her. I know for a fact that you won't let anything happen. I almost feel sorry for Pitch, for what you're going to do to him if he ever tries anything."

Nightlight gave a small smile to that, and he couldn't help but laugh a little. Knowing that MIM was being completely serious, but still saying it as if he were joking. He was right, no matter what, he would never, ever let Pitch harm her. If he did, what nearly happened all those years ago at Punjam Hy Loo wouldn't even begin to compare to what he was going to do to him.

So with one last mournful look to his old friend, Nightlight shot up into the night sky with the small child held protectively in his arms. Racing away from the setting sun, down to earth and away from the Moon Palace, still not at all ready for what he was about to do.

Tsar Lunar stood there on the open terrace of his palace, watching his most faithful friend leave with what could very well be the key to ending this war. When Nightlight could no longer be seen in the distance, he looked up to his parent's constellation. Silently praying that what he had just done was not a grievous mistake.


	2. A Change in the Darkness

Of Shadows and Moonlight

A Change in the Darkness

Deep below the earth's surface, within caves so dark and foreboding that no human had ever dared to enter them, everything was still and silent. Not even a single grain of nightmare sand moved and disturbed the peace. In this place, where the darkness was ever present, not a single ray of light from the outside world could penetrate it. The only light that could be seen was dull, and came from small candle stubs that lined the walls of the caves every so often as you walked through them.

Now anyone else, or at least anyone who was sane, would know that this was a place no mortal should ever be. Every instinct that feared death and willed to survive would be screaming for them to run as far away from this places they could, and never look back.

This wasn't the case for him however, though he was quite sane, mind you. (Though most people who knew him didn't actually believe that.) However, not many people knew him or even believed in him to begin with. Most people couldn't even see him. After all, there was no such thing as the boogeyman.

Or so people thought anyway.

Oh but he is real, and these caves, where the darkness was ever present, they are his home. This darkened realm that is seemingly cut off from the rest of the world was the home of Pitch Black, the Nightmare King.

Not long after his defeat the Guardians, and when he was turned on by his own accursed nightmares; he was able to regain enough power to be able to get them back under his control. The world was full of fear after all, and all of it gave him power. Whether it was something small and seemingly pointless like a teenager worrying about an upcoming test, or something much more serious, like a man fearing for his life while being held hostage at gunpoint - all of it gave him power. So while he was still weak, and certainly in no condition to fight, he was able to regain enough power to not only regain control of his nightmares, but also to be able to leave his lair in just under a few months.

He was still very weak, and needed time to heal and regain power. While at the same time plotting about all the ways he could get his revenge on those accursed Guardians.

Though at this moment he was resting, and surprisingly enough he was sleeping peacefully. For what seemed like the first time in centuries. Normally his sleep was restless, and accompanied by what seemed to be a never-ending stream of nightmares. Many of which were so strong, that he wouldn't even consider giving them to adults. Ironic isn't it? The King of nightmares being tortured by the very things he controlled, and created. However at this moment, he wasn't dreaming it all. His mind was in a state of calming empty blackness, that he'd grown accustomed to over time, though he rarely got a chance to enjoy it, at least when he was sleeping.

He was all but ripped out of his rarely blissful slumber as his eyes flew open, and he shot straight up in bed with the speed that left him feeling disoriented for a moment. Every muscle in his body tightened and he went rigid. Whatever it was that had awoken him in such a way, he had no idea. Something was wrong. He could feel that much for certain. He'd never felt anything like this before, something strange was going on, and he knew it wasn't right. He didn't know what it was. It was as if the very shadows themselves were screaming. He felt numb, and there was a stinging sensation all over his body, as if he'd been electrocuted. But there was no explanation for it. There was no reason as to why or how any of this was happening.

Then as suddenly is this change came, it stopped.

It happened so quickly he almost thought he'd imagined it. Or that it was just one of the nightmares or fearlings acting up again.

This idea however, was quickly thrown out the proverbial window when one of his nightmares came bounding into his room for no apparent reason. The thing had gone mental. It was prancing and jumping around the room like a dog chasing a butterfly. It was an absolute hysterics. That confirmed it, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. And whatever it was, it was strong enough not only to have ripped him from his blissful sleep, but also to send his minions into a clear state of insanity.

Pitch quickly got out of bed and melded into the shadows. Not only to go investigate just what in the hell was going on, but also to avoid being trampled by the currently psychotic nightmare. Though what he found in the globe room wasn't much better.

Wait, scratch that. It was worse.

Every single one of his nightmares was going out of their mind. Screeching that sounded something like nails being dragged across a chalkboard echoed throughout the room as the nightmares went frantic, running and flying not only into each other, but the walls and the cages that hung overhead. Causing them to break and come crashing to the ground. Great, just great, he had to stop this before the ceiling started to cave in.

"Enough!" He all but screamed in cold, and extremely irritated fury. All the nightmare suddenly froze, whether on the ground or not. They stopped dead where they were and looked over to their (incredibly pissed off, especially for having been woken up) master. Who was currently glaring daggers at the dark horses, just daring them to try something out of line. Most of them half expecting to suddenly burst into flames under his intense glare. Many of them were honestly a bit surprised when it didn't happen.

Pitch was furious, and currently only had one thought going through the forefront of his mind.

"What in the seven Hells is going on here?!"

Though in truth, he really didn't have to ask. He knew exactly what was going on. The nightmares had sensed exactly what he had, and for some reason, were going ballistic because of it.

The calm lasted for a grand total of about 3 seconds.

Then the feeling came back. It was clearly the same, but it was weaker, and this time it didn't go away. It wasn't painful, if anything it just felt… odd, and incredibly annoying. But that still didn't quite explain what it felt like, something was just different - off somehow. The nightmares felt this as well, they didn't know what to make of it either. Though they didn't act out as strongly as they had before, mainly because they knew if their master got any more pissed off, it wouldn't end well for any of them. While some whined slightly, other started to pace back and forth or in circles. It was almost as if they were restless and fidgeting. And to be quite honest Pitch didn't know what to make of it. They never acted like this. If he didn't know for sure that something was off before, he certainly did now. This was just wrong. That's really the only way to describe this idiocy.

Oh yeah, this was wrong, and he was pissed. No, scratch that, he was livid. These were creatures of darkness! They were meant to make children wake up screaming and running to their parents! To bring terror to the hearts of all who saw them! Yet here they were, acting like mindless, jittery house pets! Oh no, he would not have it. This was going to end, he was going to find out just the hell was going on and put a stop to it right now.

The darkness was his domain. It obeyed him, and was his to control. If someone or something thought that they could use or jack with his darkness, his power, then they clearly had no idea who they were messing with. When he found whoever or whatever was responsible for this mess, he was going to give them a nightmare that would keep them paralyzed in fear for the next six months.

So with one last warning glance at his nightmares, he turned and melted into the shadows once again. Off to find out just what in the hell was going on.


	3. Not For Nothing

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Not For Nothing

The shadows parted as Pitch descended through them, searching for whatever it was that had sent the nightmares into a state of hysteria. He followed the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the feeling that had first awoken him, as it slowly began to grow stronger. It wasn't until was practically screaming at him that he noticed what was going on around him, and what he noticed had him freezing on the spot. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening or his jaw from dropping slightly due to the sheer shock of the realization he just had.

The shadows, they weren't doing as he willed.

Even as he stops, the shadows continued to separate, creating a path for him to follow.

"This isn't possible…" And it wasn't. The shadows could only move as commanded, as he commanded. They couldn't move on their own, it just wasn't possible. They had no control or consciousness themselves. But he wasn't causing them to do this. They were moving alone, without cause or reason. They seemed to be calling him, beckoning him forward along the path, as if wanting him to follow. But this just wasn't possible. The fact that they were moving on their own defied the very laws of nature.

His anger over the situation with his nightmares was now accompanied by both concern, and curiosity.

However, Pitch was not the kind of man to simply follow orders or do as others commanded. So his more arrogant and narcissistic self was fighting with his curiosity - strongly demanding he turn around right there, go back home, forget this whole damn mess, and attempt to fall back into the blissful realm of dreamless sleep. However his anger combined with his now growing curiosity, won out in the end. So he proceeded forward, following the path the shadows had created for him.

Moments later, Pitch melded out of the shadow of a small cliff, at what appeared to be the edge of an empty clearing in the middle of a forest.

To anyone else this place would have seemed beautiful.

On one side the clearing was surrounded by large majestic oak trees, while the other was nestled at the bottom of a 10 foot high cliff. A small waterfall flowed from the top and pooled into a small stream that flowed the outer edge of the clearing. The ground and trees were covered in a thin blanket of snow and frost, while the banks of the small stream were frozen over, the glistening white blanket only adding to its beauty. It seemed completely isolated from the rest of the world. No animals or even their tracks could be seen in the snow, tainting the silence and beauty this place possessed. Even the wind was silent. However, the most enchanting thing by far about this place… was the sky.

That is what truly showed how isolated this place was. Not a single light from a city clouded or diminished the brightness of the stars. Millions of them, shimmering like diamonds in the night sky. Shining so brightly and seemingly so close, that it truly was almost as if one could simply reach out and take one if they tried.

But, Pitch noticed none of this. Because the second he arrived, any curiosity he had, quickly went up in flames and his anger returned tenfold. There was nothing here!

He had been woken up from possibly the best sleep he had had in centuries, had nearly been trampled by an army of psychotic nightmares, only to go searching for the cause of this idiocy to find out the shadows have suddenly gone rogue. FOR NOTHING?!

Pitch was fuming. (Remember when Sandy got so mad that dream sand came out of his ears like a steam train? That is what would currently be happening to Pitch if he had that ability.) He was just about to storm off, to go give out some nightmares that would leave children checking under their beds every night until they were 30.

That is until he noticed the moon.

Slowly reveling itself from behind a small gathering of clouds, the moon seemed to be growing bigger and brighter with every passing second. Its radiant light slowly filling the clearing, causing many of the shadows to retreat farther into the forest as the light reflected off the snow creating millions of tiny prisms and rainbows.

Keeping hidden from the moon's light in the shadows, Pitch could feel his pure, unadulterated hatred coiling in the pit of his stomach. He could practically feel his blood boiling, and his face took on an immediate grimace. If looks could kill, surely Tsar Lunar would be dead ten times over from the glare Pitch was giving him. The area he was standing in seemed to become colder in the already freezing air. Venom was practically dripping off of him as his aura darkened from the pure malice in his blackened heart. And he could practically feel MIM laughing at him and his current situation.

Pitch had finally managed to tear his venomous gaze away from the moon, and he was about to quickly turned his back to leave, completely forgetting his purpose in coming here.

That was when Hell decided to make its presence known on Earth.

The wind howled and came with the sudden ferocity of a hurricane, as if a tornado suddenly decided to appear in the clearing breaking branches from the trees and sending snow and debris everywhere. Pitch had to shield his face with his arms to keep from getting pelted with rocks. The wind was so strong that it nearly knocked him off his feet, and it seemed to be increasing with every second. He felt as if he were being torn to shreds.

Then as suddenly as the wind came, it stopped.

The air stilled, and the sudden silence that followed was deafening. It was as if all life had suddenly vanished from the face of the Earth. Pitch cautiously lowered his arms and opened his eyes, knowing full well that Seraphina was unpredictable, and the wind could start up again at any moment, ten times harsher than before.

The silence remained, and the wind once again was silent, as if it hadn't had even been there at all. But as he was just about to think that everything was over, that it was just some freak wind storm, he was suddenly thrown back into a tree by the force of a sudden explosion of blinding white light and sound and accompanied by an even harsher wind. The force of hitting the tree left him dazed for a moment, barely enough time to vaguely question what the Mack truck that surely must have hit him, was doing in a forest.

Despite the wind he forced his eyes to open, once again attempting to shield his face from the debris being flung every which way. But what he saw caused his eyes to go wide as saucers, and he could only stare in awe at what was happening before him. Suddenly everything prior to now, the demented nightmares, the rouge shadows, that God forsaken MIM, were wiped from his mind as he could form only a single thought.

"What the hell is going on here?"


	4. Light of a Fallen Star

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Light of a Fallen Star

"What the hell is going on here?"

If the shadow acting on their own is against the very laws of nature, than what Pitch was seeing now defied everything else, nature, logic, science, everything. Because this doesn't happen, it can't happen.

It. Isn't. Possible.

But it was. Because it was happening now, right in front of him. And he couldn't look away. Couldn't dispute it, couldn't just write it off as some fluke feeling that he may have just imagined. He couldn't do anything. Because it was happening, and all he could do was watch. In awe, in confusion, in horror that he had only felt once, less than a year ago when his own nightmares turned on him. As everything he knew about the darkness, his darkness, was shattered.

Moonbeams. Thousands of them. Fell from the sky like shooting stars into the clearing. Creating a light so strong, so bright that it almost burned. But still, he couldn't look away - because it wasn't just moonbeams that appeared. There were shadows. Despite the intense light that the moonbeams brought with them, the shadows weren't being pushed back. They weren't retreating, or fading away. They actually went toward the light. They charged forward and intercepted the moonbeams. But they still didn't falter. They were actually getting stronger!

But that's not what Pitch was watching. He was watching something far more than the impossible show of shadows being strengthened by light. And it made his blood run cold.

Moonbeams and shadows are mortal enemies. They will fight and struggle to overpower and extinguish the other. Just like the dream and nightmare sands. They oppose each other until only one remains. Taking complete control, and tainting the other. But this is not what was happening now.

They weren't fighting; they weren't trying to overpower one another. No. It almost looked like … like they… were merging.

The shadows rose toward the sky and the moonbeams ascended down, as they twisted and combined into a violent cyclone of darkness and light and the wind raged with even more ferocity than the previous storm. The black and white mixed and separated, contrasting with one another. Looking like ink on a canvas. The wind grew stronger every second, as the two opposing forces twisted together, interlocking like the fingers of two dancers, furious and passionate as they glide across a ballroom floor. The wind and raging storm as the orchestra's melody, playing for the dancers as the cyclone increased in size and speed.

Pitch wasn't sure how long this lasted. It could have been seconds, but it just as well could have been hours. But that didn't really matter, because it was what happened next that mattered, because what happened next is what would change everything.

From within the heart of the whirlwind, a blinding light suddenly appeared - a light ten times brighter than the light of the moonbeams. Like a fallen star, it shone with a light that equaled that of the constellations who once ruled the Golden Age.

Yet it was different somehow. It was even brighter than the moonbeams, and yet… it didn't hurt him. It didn't burn him, or push him away. And the shadows did not flee; they approached, and were not forced back or destroyed. It was almost as if the light was…welcoming the darkness, beckoning it forward.

Even the fearlings were not harmed by it. They weren't agitated or threatened. No. They were silent. As if even they too were staring in wonder at what was happening before them.

It was warm, peaceful, comforting. Everything you would expect to feel from light in this world. He had not felt these things from the light since the day he became the Nightmare King. The day the fearlings possessed him. When they twisted his mind into that of a mad man and blackened his soul forever. He never thought he would feel the light in such away again.

The already bright light intensified every second, as did the storm surrounding it. After only a few moments Pitch was forced to close his eyes or he surely would've gone blind. The wind continued to howl and he was nearly impaled by the branches that had been ripped off the trees and sent flying as if they were spears. He was sure Mother Nature was trying to kill him at this point.

At that moment, a second light appeared. It fell from the sky like a fallen star and with all the force of one. The force was so strong that the cyclone was dispersed and sent outward in an explosion of light, darkness and sound.

The small distance Pitch had between himself and the tree was quickly closed as he was sent flying back (for the second time that evening) into the tree. If the force of the explosion had been any greater, there is no doubt that he would've actually gone through the tree. The collision left him stunned for more than a few seconds this time. But when he was finally able to stop seeing four of everything he slowly forced himself to stand. Wincing as he did from the pain that exploded into the back of his head. It took him a few minutes to steady himself and insure he wasn't going to throw up.

As he was finally able to collect himself he slowly opened his eyes again, completely expecting for the storm to start up a third time and finish him off.

It looked like a tornado had passed through the clearing. And in a way, one sort of had. The trees surrounding the clearing were no longer covered in snow, and were all missing large portions of their branches, which littered the ground along with rocks, dirt and uneven mounds of snow that had been pushed aside by the wind. A few of the smaller trees had been uprooted and were now lying on their sides.

His eyes quickly landed on the center of the clearing where the cyclone had started, the only place clear of debris. Or at least it was supposed to be.

There, where the blinding light had been at the heart of the cyclone, was a small bundle of black blankets.


	5. Not Evil

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Not Evil

A small, still, pile of black blankets lay in the heart of what had been cyclone of shadows and light only moments before. It clashed with the small amount of snow that remained in the clearing after the storm, even more so than the shadows did. In fact, whatever it was almost looked like it was made of shadows. So much so that Pitch looked up, just to be sure that it wasn't just the shadow of some cloud blocking the light of the moon. But the sky was just as clear as it was before the storm. Not a single cloud obstructed the view of the moon and it's light.

Pitch stared at it intently, hundreds of questions ripping through his head at what he had just seen. Not one of which he was able to answer. The part of his brain that controlled any rationality and common sense he had at the moment was screaming at him to get the bloody hell out of here before anything else happened. And after what he had just seen, he was slightly concerned that what would happen next could very well be the apocalypse.

But he wasn't listening. He wasn't listening because the part of his mind that was still in a state of shock and confusion at this point, was somehow maintaining dominance over the rest of him. And so, before he fully realized what he was doing, he slowly began to approach the black, almost shadowy mass.

He slowly approached the center of the clearing, not even taking note in the fact that he was stepping into the light of the moon. Despite this though, the fearlings still remained silent. With each tentative step forward he slowly felt his curiosity growing, as the questions he still had no answers to racked throughout his mind.

When he was merely feet away, he was finally able to discern what it was. A pile of fine, black velvet cloth was loosely wrapped around something. The cloth itself was as black as ink. It was no wonder he momentarily confused them for shadows. He slowly reached down and grabbed one of the top folds, gently pulling it back to see what it was concealing.

What he saw made him recoil instantaneously. Retracting his hand and stepping away so quickly one would think he had been burned.

Swaddled gently in the inky black cloth, was the sleeping form of a newborn infant.

Pitch just stood there for what felt like an eternity, eyes wide with confusion and slightly unbelieving. An entirely deferent set of questions was now racing through his mind, so fast that he was barely able to even comprehend what they were. A brief moment of panic coursed through him when he thought the child might be dead. This feeling was quickly smothered however, as he saw the faint rise and fall of the black cloth that covered the child.

When he was finally able to tear his gaze away from the small form, his eyes quickly traveled to the moon, his face immediately shifting from a look of stunned confusion to a gnarling scowl.

"What is the meaning of this Lunar?!"

He all but screamed at the luminous orb. There were so many things he wanted to say, to scream at the moon in frustration. But his quickly growing anger and his still lingering shock and confusion quickly drowned the words in his throat. And the moon remained silent as always, by all appearances, just a lifeless rock.

His anger now seething, and his hatred clouding his mind, he gave the moon one last venomous glare before quickly turning his back on it, storming away towards the shadows of the cliff. Fully intent on returning to his lair and taking something for this damn migraine that was beginning to surface in the forefront of his skull.

But just as he was about to reach the safety of the shadows, a small, sniffling noise made his body freeze mid step, breath catching in his thought. Eyes widening as every thought but one fled his mind.

Don't turn around. Just leave, and forget any of this ever happened. Don't even think of playing his game. Do not turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn around. DON'T TURN ARO-

But a second small cry, slightly louder and somehow more heart wrenching than the last, caused any resolve and rationality he had left to go up in flames.

"Damn it!" He sighed heavily as he slowly turned around and cautiously made his way back to the center of the clearing.

Now, Pitch Black was many things. He was the Nightmare King. The Boogeyman. The phantom that lurked in the shadows to frighten small children. The monster that hid under beds and in closets that tainted sweet dreams until only fear and nightmares remained. But contrary to what others might believe, he was not evil. And, he most certainly did not harm children. Not physically.

There were enough adults in the world that beat their own children. That abused them. He was not needed for such things. And even if he was, he would still never do it.

Pitch Black loved fear. He was fear. He provided it, and he feed off of it. He knew people's deepest fears, and he used them to his advantage. The fear of others is what kept him alive, what gave him power. It was who he was. But despite that fact, there was one kind of fear that he hated. The one fear he wished he didn't have to feel from others. But he still felt it, every day. The fear of a child being harmed by their own parents. And because of that, he could never just abandon a child like this, to just die. Especially one so young. So helpless.

So even though every fiber of his being was telling him to turn around again, to leave, and to forget this whole damned night ever happened, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't.

He approached until he was standing just a foot or so away from the baby. He watched the child for a moment with a slight scowl of both irritation and confusion, hesitant and unsure about what he should do. After a few moments of thought , (The last one being 'oh to hell with it!') He slowly began to bend down to pick up the sleeping form.

But just as his hand brushed against the velvety black blanket that swaddled it, the child's eyes slowly fluttered open.


	6. Forgotten Promises

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Forgotten Promises

But just as his hand brushed against the velvety black blanket that swaddled it, the child's eyes slowly fluttered open.

Pitch Black found himself staring into the eyes of the small child before him, and it staring right back. And for what felt like the thousandth time that day, he froze. He froze not just because the child could actually see him, or because of the fact the baby had just suddenly awoke. No, he froze because of the child's eyes themselves.

Deep pools of an almost silvery gray, very similar to his own, stared back at him. The gray darkened to a sharp black at the outer edges of the iris, while it lightened to an almost pure white around the pupil. With scattered streaks of bright silver that contrasted with the metallic gray between the black and white. But they didn't clash. The black and white complimented each other and mixed in a way that showed how individual both were, how different, but blended together in a way that could only be described as harmony. As balance.

And his mind instantly went back to the cyclone. How the darkness and light reacted to one another. How they combined instead of trying to push the other away or overpower it.

People often speak of getting lost in another's eyes. And that is exactly what Pitch found himself doing, if only for a moment. But when he was finally able to collect himself again, his heart sank slightly.

Damn it! Was the only he thing he could think of in those few moments. Because he just knew what would happen next.

Children feared him, they hated him. That's the way it's always been. The way it should be. And whenever a child actually could see him, it was always the same. They would scream and cry for their parents, it didn't really matter how old they were. As long as they could see him it was always the same. But that was the point wasn't it? That was why he existed, to frighten people. Epically children. So he knew that any second the kid would start screaming. He winced slightly in preparation for the shrill cry he knew the child was about to give. And that's exactly what happened.

But it sure as HELL, didn't happen the way he would have ever thought it would.

The child did scream, but it was not in fear. No. It was in glee.

The child beamed at him. It laughed and gurgled happily as it squirmed excitedly in the blankets. The child's eyes never once leaving his as it managed to get one hand loose from under the swaddled cloth and reach up for him.

Pitch could feel his jaw drop and eyes widen as he stared at the child in complete shock. But, somehow that shock must have slightly kick started part of his brain because suddenly he could use sarcasm again. But he could still only manage to form one quick, smartass remark.

"Well this is….new."

And yet again, his body moved before he was able to fully realize just what in the hell he was doing. He tentatively leaned down and picked up the small form. Earning a squeal of delight in return as he gently cradled the child in his arms. The baby gave an almost content sigh as it curled into the warmth. Softly closing its eyes, seeming as if it was about to fall back into a blissful slumber. Completely ignorant to the fact that it was in the arms of a man who any other child would do anything to try and get away from.

Pitch just continued to stare, completely mesmerized by the small child in his arms. His mind reeling and straining to comprehend every last impossibility he had witnessed in the past 24 hours. He could just feel a searing migraine coming on. And to think, it started out as a completely normal day.

And now here he was. Standing in the middle of God knows where after nearly getting ripped to shreds by a tornado of light and shadows. And holding an infant that by all rights should be screaming at this point, and who apparently fell from the sky.

From this, he can draw a few different conclusions. The world has ended. Hell has frozen over (Jack Frost probably had something to do with that one) After thousands of years the fearlings have finally destroyed any sanity he had managed to preserve. And this child was demented.

Children were supposed to fear him! He was the Boogeyman! He was fear itself! And yet this- this child was falling asleep in his arms! No one should ever feel safe enough to sleep in his presence! Let alone a child!

"This isn't happening. This CAN'T be happening! It just isn't-"

A small yawn shatters his train of thought and brings his attention to the small bundle in his arms. The small child curls into his chest, one small hand holding tightly to the seam of his robe, a small smile gracing the baby's lips.

In that moment Pitch choked on a sudden gasp as a skull splitting pain erupted from behind his eyes.

"Hahahaha! Daddy! Daddy! You can't catch me!"

"Oh we'll see about that!"

A small girl with long black hair runs through an empty green field. Giggling and laughing as she tries to outrun her father. She runs to the end of the field, quickly hiding behind a large tree just past the edge of the forest. Panting hard as she tries to catch her breath.

She carefully peeks behind the tree to see if her daddy had found her yet. But was surprised to see an empty field, her daddy nowhere in sight. She slowly came out from behind the tree. Confused and a little scared that she didn't know where he was.

"Daddy? Daddy where are you-"

"Gotcha!"

The man quickly picks her up from behind and lifts her into the air, running his fingers up and down her sides, tickling her mercilessly.

"Ahahahahahah! No, no! Daddy no! No tickling!"

She was able to just make out between laughs and giggles as she fell to the ground. The man chuckled lightly and picked up his daughter. Setting her down on his lap and holding her close.

"Hehehe. Looks like I finally caught you my little butterfly."

We see the same little girl again, about a year older. Lying in her bed, tossing and turning from a nightmare as the darkened sky outside her window lit up with lightning. She sat strait up in bed with a loud cry when the next boom of thunder sounds. Small tears streamed down her face.

"Daddy!"

It takes only moments for the man to come running into her room. A sword held tightly in his hands, prepared to attack anyone who might have broken in.

"Seraphina!"

He quickly sees his daughter crying, and when he sees no one else in the room, he sheaths his blade and runs to her side. His wife already there and rocking her baby girl back and forth gently.

"Seraphina, sweet heart. What's wrong?" Her mother cooed softly, trying to comfort her daughter.

"I-I ha-had a bad d-dream."

"Sweet heart." The man carefully sits with his wife on the bed and gently takes his daughter into his arms.

"Don't be scared sweet heart. It was only a bad dream. It's all over now." The man spoke softly to his distraught daughter as he rocked her back and forth.

"B-b-but you d-didn't come b-back…" She choked out between sobs as she held on even tighter to the man.

"What do you mean? I'm right here butterfly."

"Y-you went away a-again. T-to go fight the m-monsters. Y-you said you'd c-come b-back, but y-you didn't. Y-you n-never came home! You forgot about me!" The little girl clung to her father as tightly as she possibly could. Fearing with all her heart that the dream would come true and her daddy would just disappear.

The mad sighed deeply as he continued rocking his little girl, sparing one concerned look at his wife. He pushed his daughter back gently and made sure she was looking right at him. Gently cupping her cheeks and wiping away some of her tears with his thumb.

"Seraphina, I want you to listen to me very carefully." Hearing her name said so seriously, the little girl looked up at her father through a haze of tears.

"There will be times when I have to go away for a while. I have to go out and fight those monsters. To keep you, mommy and everyone else safe."

"B-but-" She begins tearing up again, not liking what her daddy is saying at all, but he quickly hushes her keeping one finger over her mouth to finish.

"But I promise you, that no matter what happens. No matter how long I'm gone, or where I go. I will always, always come back to you. And I would never EVER forget about you."

*Sniff* "Y-you promise?" Her eyes are despite and wide. The hopefulness and innocence in her voice would be enough to bring a grown to his knees if it would take her sadness away.

The man pulls his little girl into his arms. Hell bent on doing just that. "I promise."

The little girl holds on tightly to her daddy. No longer scared that he's just going to disappear, but still not wanting to be alone.

"Daddy?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"C-can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?"

"Hehe. Of course you can my little butterfly."

The little girl is crying again. She's standing with her mother in a large, miraculous shipping port. The most magnificent ships of the Golden Age can be seen setting sail to places as far the other side of the galaxy. Traveling from one of the universe's glimmering constellation to another.

But the greatest ships in the universe are still preparing for launch. The ships of the Golden Age armies are being equipped with massive assortments of weapons and provisions for the long voyage ahead.

Families are seen giving there last goodbyes as husbands, sons, brothers, and uncles are preparing to leave their loved ones for possibly the last time.

"Daddy, don't go! Please don't go!" The little girl desperately begs her father to stay, holding onto him as tightly as her little arms possibly can. After all of her nightmares, nothing scares her more than the idea that her daddy won't come back.

The man reaches down to give his little girl one last hug before he leaves. He knows he won't be coming home for a very long time. Both of them know.

"I want nothing more than to stay right here with you and your mother Seraphina. But I have to go, to keep you safe. But I promise I'll be back soon, and I'll write to you every day. So I need you to be strong. I need you to promise me that you'll be a big girl, and take care of your mother while I'm gone. Can you do that for me butterfly?"

"I-I pr-promise daddy. I promise I-I'll be good." The little girl can only hold on to her daddy. She wants to think that this is just another bed dream. That she'll wake up any second and her daddy won't really be going anywhere. But she knows this isn't a dream. Even dreams don't hurt this much.

A large whistle signals that it's time to leave. The man holds tightly to his baby girl for one more moment, wishing with all his heart that he could just stay like this forever. But he knows it's not to be. He quickly stands, handing the girl over to his wife and giving her one last kiss goodbye as he prepares to walk away. But the little girl grabs on to his coat at the last second and quickly pulls a long silver chain around his neck.

*Sniff* "It's s-so you won't f-forget about me."

The man quickly looks down to see a small locket hanging open around his neck. A small picture of his beautiful little girl on the inside of a silver clasp. He pulls in his family for one last embrace. Trying desperately to stay strong for his wife and child and not let his tears fall.

The memory begins to shift and fade back into darkness. But before it fades completely, he is able to hear the last words his daughter would ever say to him as the man he once was.

"I love you daddy."


	7. Fallen Angel

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Fallen Angel

The force of the memory and the shock of the emotions it released was enough to blast Pitch off his feet and send him reeling back. He would've been able to regain his footing easily however, had a tree root not tripped him up as he was forced backwards, leading to him falling flat on his backside with a jarring thud.

His head hit the rough clearing ground and the migraine that had developed since he'd first heard the shadows just about doubled. Air came in and out of his lungs in quick, ragged breaths as he lay motionless on the ground. The impact had knocked the air from his lungs and though it was quite intense, his shock was not enough to let go of the baby he now remembered he was still holding in his arms.

Pitch sighed. I thought I was done with these!

The pain slowly began to ebb away from behind his eyes as the minutes past and he began to regain his senses. His hearing and sight tentatively faded in and out of focus as he tried to figure out what he had just seen, and remember just what in the hell he was doing that ended with him lying in a heap on the ground.

A memory... one of a little girl. And a face! But why now?

Pitch struggled to remember and it was some time until a light cooing sound eventually brought him back to reality. His body was still bruised and hurt, his brain felt like it was being wrung out like a wet washcloth- to say nothing of the pounding headache that was worming its way through his head -but he still had enough sense to remember the baby that was curling into his chest in a swaddle of black cloth.

He tried to sit up, but the movement of his head sent a shock of pain down his neck and he had to stop. The baby cooed again. Pitch absentmindedly stroked the outside of the baby's swaddlings. The feeling of the cloth on his hand calmed him somewhat and after another minute he was able to sit up and look around, unconsciously keeping a secure hold on the small child so as not to drop it as it squirmed and wriggled in his arms.

He looked down at the small form. The child was gurgling happily and he gave it an unconscious and fleeting smile, then his mind went back to the mysterious circumstances in which he'd had that memory resurface. It was strange, to say the least. Not the memory, that was something he'd gotten used to after the first time he'd learned he had been someone besides the Nightmare King, more than eight hundred years ago.

It had happened when that girl, Katharine, had shown him that old locket when he had kidnapped the children of Santoff Claussen and taken them the Earth's core. Only fragments of his memory had returned that day. Leaving him only remembering that he had been a father at some point, before the Fearlings had taken him as a host.

Over the centuries, small fragments of his old memories have returned through his dreams- on the nights where nightmare didn't plague his mind that is, and he would see scenes from his past as a human. Most of these memories only involved his daughter, the same girl he'd seen only minutes before, but he had seen a few others.

Memories of his wife and family.

He even vaguely remembered his time as a general, leading the Golden Age army's against the Fearlings, dream pirates and nightmare men. But there was one scene would replay itself over and over again, more than any other. The memory of how the Fearlings took control of him. How they had deceived him into believing his daughter was in danger and was trapped in their prison with them. How he had panicked and unlocked the door to their prison, only for them to possess him and use his hands to destroy the very thing he had given his entire life to protect.

It was something he was forced to relive again and again in his dreams. In his nightmares. And every time it made his heart throb with pain and guilt.

Apart from now, he had only ever had visions of his past in his sleep. So why would he have seen those things now?

Pitch sighed and wished he could retreat to his cool caves, but he didn't think he could move his legs yet. Why would he be remembering his daughter now? It was over, done with! He couldn't bring her back! She was someone else now. She was Mother Nature just as he was the Nightmare King. There was nothing more to it than that.

Pitch sighed again and closed his eyes. Why? He asked, not knowing or caring if he received an answer. Why do I always end up like this? Alone, hurt, and wishing that I was just a mindless monster that the Guardians think I am instead of the actually helpful being with a soul that I really am? Why?!

He didn't know. He just didn't know!

It was an impossible question to answer. Maybe the spirit of Fate had a bone to pick with him, maybe it was just his destiny to be alone.

But you're not alone.

Pitch opened his eyes again. That was right. He wasn't alone. Not now, anyway.

And that one thought brought his attention, once again, to the baby in his arms.

It was laughing now and gurgling happily up at him. Its bright silvery-gray eyes sparkled and its little arms reached up, grasping the seam of his robes in its little fist. The movement of its arms made the blanket wrapped around the child's body fall off partly, revealing bare little shoulders and-

"What the-"

Pitch frowned, bending down and moving the blanket back a little. When he did, he learned two things. One, the baby was undoubtedly a girl. He'd learned as much from her high-pitched giggling and those eyes, but this pretty much clenched it.

The second thing was something a little more surprising and altogether stranger.

A pair of identical black nubs were peeking just over her shoulders.

Pitch blinked, then he shifted his grip on her, turning her just slightly. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows.

It wasn't.

Folded against her back and tucked so that the moving of the blankets couldn't ruffle them, were a gleaming pair of jet-black wings.

Pitch stared. The wings were about as long as an adult raven's. A glossy sheen that reflected the moon's light from above caused them to look as dark as the shadows themselves, yet also making them appear to glow with iridescent radiance. They were clean and fully-grown, the feathers healthy and dark. And in the center of her shoulder blades, between the nubs of bone that connected her wings to her skin, was a small crescent shaped marking.

Pitch looked at the marking for a few seconds, wondering what it meant. Then the right wing, now free from its make-shift harness, extended a little bit, as if testing the air. Pitch watched with fascination as the gentle wind that seemed to be caressing the child ruffled her feathers slightly, as if to play. Causing the small girl to laugh even more and try to grab at the wind in response.

Unwillingly, he smiled as her little fists tried to catch the wind. He was still balancing her in his lap on her side to get a better look at her wings, so he decided to right her and instead pick her up under her arms. Keeping the cloth wrapped around her in case she was part human and could catch cold. There was also a moral aspect too, that this child wasn't his and he shouldn't see it like that, but he didn't think about that. Instead he focused on her amazing wings.

Holding her like any other parent attempting to get their baby to walk, with her little wrapped feet jigging in place against his legs and her back turned towards him, he proceeded to inspect the wings.

One wing was still folded tightly against her back in such a way that it didn't look like it was there at all, while the other flopped and fluttered slightly with every move she made. The wind continued to blow slightly, and the girl gave a little giggle each time it made her wing rise.

Pitch resisted the urge to laugh, then he set the little baby down and re-wrapped her lower body in the blanket. His arms were getting tired of holding her up.

"What are you?" he asked the baby, turning her around to face him. "Where did you come from?"

The baby smiled and cooed softly. Pitch let out a sigh. "Right. As if I really expected you to answer." he muttered, shifting her body's weight to his other leg. "I must've hit my head harder than I thought."

Pitch was curious, no question about it. He wanted to know what this baby was, why it had been sent here, and who had sent it. From that mark between her shoulder blades he had a pretty good idea, but he wasn't sure yet.

"And why me, of all people?" he wondered aloud. "Given my track record, I'm the last person someone would want to take care of a child. Especially a baby."

And yet, the baby seemed to have taken an unnatural shine to him. She didn't cry, like all the other children he'd ever met did when they saw him. She only laughed. Children were not supposed to laugh when they saw him! They were supposed to cower in fear!

"Apparently 'supposed to' isn't having much of an impact anymore," Pitch muttered, looking down at the baby again. She was just looking up at him now, with those amazingly bright silver eyes. Like little twin moons.

Moons!

"Oh, so THAT'S what this is about?!" Pitch yelled, looking up at the moon. The little girl had instantly stopped giggling and was looking at him with wide, confused eyes, but he didn't notice. "You think that a little winged brat is going to turn me into one of your pathetic Guardians?! Well THINK AGAIN!"

His heart was racing. Who does he think he is?! Thinks he can just drop some child onto me and then I'll just go back to whatever I was?! HA! As if!

"You've finally lost it, Lunar!" he sneered. "I am not giving up all that I've worked for just for the sake of one snot-nosed, smelly-reared-"

"Choo!"

Pitch stopped. The baby had sneezed and now that she had gotten his attention, she looked up at him with wide, doeful eyes.

"Oh now come on!" he said, glaring at the baby. "Don't try to pull the innocent act. I know you're just a little trap to get me to change back into the goody-two shoes I used to be!"

The baby girl continued to stare up at him, her wide eyes reflecting the moonlight. Pitch tried to look away, but she held his gaze and eventually he sighed. "Well, it's not your fault I suppose." he conceded. "After all, you're only an infant."

He could've sworn the baby nodded, just a little bit.

"It's that damn Moon's plan." Pitch added, glaring skywards again. The Moon was just hanging in the sky, watching him. "Whatever it is, I don't want a part in it! I'm going to leave this strange little bird here for the wolves to feed on! See how you like that!" he called tauntingly to the sky.

The moon didn't move, but the baby reached up for his robe again, intent on grabbing yet another fistful of fabric.

"Oh no!" Pitch said, quickly disentangling himself from her hands and setting her down on the grass a few feet away from him. "I'm done! I don't want any part in this hair-brained scheme!"

Pitch tried to stand but his legs were wobbly, to he had to lean against the ground in rather an undignified position until his legs grew stronger again. When he did stand, he stalked over to the girl and loomed over her, pointing a gray finger at her little nose. "Whatever's happening, whatever you are, I don't care! I'm done. I've had too many dealings with Lunar's minions in the past and even if you are a baby, I'm still not falling for it!"

The baby reached up and latched her small hand around his finger, gurgling and tugging softly.

"Stop that!" he demanded, pulling his finger away. "I'm trying to be serious!"

The baby just watched him with those wide eyes of hers. He could barely see her wing stubs now, covered as she was in the blanket.

"I'm going, and that's that." he said, trying to sound in control. "If you are a magical creature, you'll find your way out of the woods alright."

He straightened up and turned to leave, the mantra that had already drummed itself into his skull from before repeating in his mind.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn around. DON'T TURN-

He made it about six steps before the first cry came. It was like a bird's cry, soft and sweet, but sad as well. Before he could stop himself he was already running back to the baby. He picked her up and held her close, making calm shushing sounds to quiet her. Purely for the sake of not wanting another spirit like oh, say, the Sandman, to hear her and find them.

She quieted the instant he picked her up and started gurgling again when he moved her gently side to side, like he'd seen other parents do.

Like he'd done, once upon a time, with his own little girl.

After she had quieted, Pitch slowly set her down again and tried to walk away. The exact same thing happened and he found himself picking her up and rocking her, like they were a single father and his daughter in a nice cozy home by the fire.

Three times he tried this, and each time it was the same. She would cry if he set her down and then Pitch, cursing whatever semblance of a human soul he had left, would have to pick her up again.

The fourth time seemed to make her angry because she cried a bit louder then the other times and when he picked her up again, she didn't stop crying. He stood there, unsure of what to do for several seconds, then he remembered the little girl's playful swipes at the wind and the gentle coo of her voice when it played with her wing. He carefully unwrapped the right wing, gently extending it, and began to stroke it lightly, like you would a frightened cat.

The second his hand touched her wing the little girl went still. Her eye lids fluttered and, with a hum of approval, her voice went silent. Pitch sighed a silent breath of relief and continued stroking the soft black feathers, lest she wake up again and start to cry. She slowly curled back into the warmth of his chest with a soft yawn, her wing opening just a bit more, as if asking him to continue.

After a while Pitch eased his stroking and the little girl's eyes fluttered back open. Though she didn't cry or object to his stopping, he got the sense that she did want him to keep going. He didn't though.

Pitch had to resist the urge to curse under his breath. Just what is the matter with this child?

Pitch gave a heavy sigh. "I guess I can't just leave you here after all." He was at a complete loss of what to do. Whatever this girl was she clearly wasn't human. So the probability of a normal person even being able to see her was slim to none. Though arguably that may have been a good thing, God knows how the humans would react if they could see her.

Maybe he could just leave her at that infernal fairy's palace or the North Pole. It would be the Guardians problem then. Another light cooing sound brought his attention back to the baby in his arms as an almost amusing thought suddenly struck him.

"Are you holding me hostage?" he inquired, peering at her with a small smile on his face. It really had been quite a while since he'd been in such proximity with a child that hadn't cried its head off or screamed.

Again, the strange little baby with the moon eyes seemed to nod sleepily, then she seemed to wake up a bit more and broke out in a small fit of giggling.

Pitch allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "Alright, I supposed it would be cruel to leave you all alone." he admitted, turning towards the edge of the clearing with the winged baby in his arms. "And if you keep screaming every time I let go, I suppose I have no choice but to bring you with me."

The baby cooed happily, snuggling closer to his chest. He gently turned her and folded her wing back down, then re-wrapped her in the black velvet blanket.

"Just so you know," Pitch added, looking up at the moon. "I'm only doing this because, despite what those morons you call Guardians think, I do have morals and I am not a cruel being."

The baby gave a little musical laugh.

Pitch looked down at her and chuckled. "Well, not that cruel anyway."

She giggled.

Pitch sighed. "Alright, alright, I give. You're coming with me, little lady."

The baby clapped her hands and Pitch got the strangest feeling she could understand everything he was saying to her. Then he dismissed it as just a foolish whim.

Babies don't have the mental capacity yet for comprehension, he thought firmly, heading for his cave entrance. And this one is barely more than an infant. It's just my mind playing tricks.

After that insane hurricane that had delivered the winged baby had diminished, the shadows were obeying his command much more readily now.

That still bothered him of course, and he burned with an intense curiosity to find out what was at play when the light and the dark had combined- something to do with the Man in the Moon no doubt -but he had better things to worry about.

"Like what am I going to do with you when I want to go to sleep, for starters." Pitch said, eyeing the baby nestled in his arms. She was asleep again, tucked up in her blanket like a small bundle of clothed with a face. She was very pretty, in a bright sort of way. Her face glowed softly with an unnatural luminescence just like her eyes, and Pitch had had to strengthen the shadows where they were traveling with some of his own more than once because the light from her face was enough to melt them.

After a few seconds they arrived in front of his cave entrance. He knew he could just teleport into the main cavern itself or, for that matter the large bedchamber where he slept, but he wanted the Nightmares to see her and know that he would not hesitate in any way to destroy them if they so much as laid one grain of nightmare sand on the child.

They had gotten out of control at Easter and he had had to make an example of many of his stronger ones, just to avoid having a mutiny. But some still were a bit riled and might not obey him automatically.

They will after that fright I gave them earlier, Pitch thought, smirking. After he'd been woken up by that strange electric-like shock and realized that his nightmares had gone briefly psychotic, he'd raised hell with them. He'd even blasted a few, just for good measure. They would be docile for a while after something like that.

For a while.

Just as Pitch was about to enter the caves and make for his bedroom, a pair of gleaming golden eyes peered out of the gloom.

Pitch smirked. Right on time.

He beckoned for the beast to step forward, and when it did he realized that it was the only truly faithful one of his creations - Onyx, his first nightmare.

"Listen here," he ordered as the nervous beast walked towards him. It might not have seen the baby yet. "I have a task for you."

Onyx bowed its head and spoke in a language that hadn't been heard since the last great Fearlings had chosen him as their host. The language didn't translate to English, but Pitch knew it well enough to know that Onyx was observing the proper protocol.

"I have just been given an exceedingly odd task, and even now I'm not sure exactly what it entitles." he admitted. "All you need to know is that this task is a living, breathing being. A child, to be precise."

Onyx raised its head and nickered in confusion, then it looked down and saw the small form its master was carrying. "I want you to tell the others;" Pitch said, gesturing to the small bundle. She was waking up. "No one is to touch her, give her any sort of nightmares, or even look at her the wrong way. Am I clear?" he hissed the last sentence, looking Onyx squarely in the eyes. He liked Onyx, but you had to be firm with your 'help'.

Onyx nodded briefly, then turned to go carry out her orders. "Wait!" Pitch called. Onyx froze. "Come here."

She turned around and waited again for orders.

Pitch looked down at the black-swaddled bundle in his arms. She wasn't afraid of him, that much was obvious, but what about the Nightmares?

He had designed them to be horrifying, to have children shaking in fear if they were to ever see one. They were concentrated fear; corrupted dream sand that served to bring terror to the hearts of children in place of good dreams. For whatever reason this child did not fear him, but how could she not fear the nightmares?

He shifted her weight and allowed her to sit up a little bit, then he beckoned for the Nightmare to come closer. Onyx reluctantly agreed and soon the yawning baby and the snorting nightmare were almost nose to nose.

Several minutes passed. Onyx looked at the baby, and the baby stared back sleepily at Onyx. Neither moved more than to blink or breathe, and Pitch was left there in probably the most awkward position ever.

I swear, this child is broken! He thought grouchily. She doesn't fear me, and apparently she doesn't fear my Nightmares either!

Though he would never admit to anyone, this sudden realization saddened him slightly.

He was fear, and he was supposed to be feared. He knew that. It was what he was. Who he was. That was never going to change. He had accepted that long ago. But this child… she wasn't afraid.

He couldn't remember the last time someone hadn't looked at him in terror, or in hatred. Probably because no one ever had. It felt… nice. Not to be seen as just some kind of monster. But it just doesn't work like that.

He looked down at the girl slowly, once again waiting for her to start crying.

The little girl stared intently at the strange black thing that had woken her back up. What was it? It was so big, and it made funny sounds. Her eyes widened as it moved closer, staring curiously back at her with its shiny yellow eyes.

Pitch closed his eyes tightly with a sigh. He was gaining absolutely nothing from this. He had been right. The girl was either a freak human science project that just so happened to be immune to fear or-

Or what?

Whatever this child was, she definitely wasn't human. The wings and the mark on her back ruled that out. But she couldn't be a spirit ether. That… that was just imposable. Spirit's weren't born- except in his case spirits were chosen by the Moon to become immortal. Some when they were living and some after they had already died, though he had only ever heard of that happening once.

Pitch sighed. He was running low on ideas about this girl, and her lack of fear towards the Nightmare just confused him more. What on earth was this girl? Or was she something from somewhere other than earth?

The idea was the most plausible one yet, considering that mark between her shoulder blades and those eyes.

Immortals couldn't age. They were stuck as they were until they faded into nonexistence or were somehow destroyed. That hadn't happened for a long time, but it had happened. And from what he knew it was impossible for immortals have children, so that idea was out. What else was there?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a loud cry emitting from the infant in his arms. He winced. OK, maybe he was wrong. Maybe she was scared of the Nightmares after all and all was well with the-

His thoughts were abruptly cut off as the shrill cry gave way to laughter and giggling. His eyes shot open as he stared, dumbfounded, as the baby girl reached her arms out to try and touch the Nightmare. The dark horse reared back a bit in shock and looked to stare at its master, having no idea how to respond to this.

The baby gurgled and laughed happily, oblivious of the danger the mare could pose to her.

Pitch looked from her to the very confused mare, then back to the girl who was still reaching up for the nightmare and squirming around excitedly again.

Onyx looked back and forth between its master and the small child in complete confusion. You're not screaming in terror?

Curiously, the mare slowly lowered its head back down toward the bouncing child. The girl squirmed and giggled happily as she reached up to touch the dark horse. Softly running her fingers over the grainy sand it was formed from. The mare sneezed when her little hand brushed against its nose and backed up a few steps.

The girl reached out and tried to touch the mare again, but it backed up another step, shifting and nickering nervously.

"Oh come on!" Pitch scoffed. "It's only a baby!"

The horse gave him a look and Pitch smirked. "OK, yes, it's a baby with wings that has no fear, but it's still just a baby!"

Onyx's eyes widened and she looked down at the girl, earning a laugh from Pitch.

"I'll explain later." he said. "Sufficed to say, she's a little unnatural. But then again, so are we."

The horse nickered and Pitch allowed himself a small smile. He was still in shock, which just seemed to be happening more and more as this day went on, but he was a patient spirit. He knew that he would learn everything about this strange little girl in due time.

The horse pulled away after a few moments, continuing to look quizzically at the small child in its masters arms. The girl just continued to laugh and coo happily at the creature, only to look up and smile widely at Pitch. Beaming at him happily as she slowly began to calm back down.

And Pitch's eyes widened suddenly. Because for a moment, he wasn't holding this girl anymore.

He was holding his daughter again.

She was smiling happily at him as he held her tightly, running his hands through her hair like he always did when he held her.

"Haha! I love you daddy!"

The vision lasted for only a moment before fading back to reality, and he was once again looking at the small girl in his arms. The Nightmare was still standing in front of him, only now it was closer and its nose was being stroked by the baby. She continued to smile up at him and Onyx, laughing and cooing softly all the while.

The horse was a little easier around the girl than before and it even let her rub its nose with her fat little fist and for whatever reason, Pitch couldn't help but smile back at her when he saw her beautiful little face, and those glowing eyes. She was an angel in miniature, but for him or for her, he wasn't sure.

After a while, Pitch regained his senses and looked up at Onyx. "Go tell the others." he said in a quiet voice. "I need to get her inside."

Onyx looked at its master, then back down at the little girl in his arms. Onyx bowed her head, then turned and retreated back into the darkness.

Pitch raised his head and gave the moon, which was still visible from where he was standing in front of the entrance to his caves, a final questioning glance.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

The Moon was silent.

"Alright." Pitch said, knowing that it was futile to argue or ask more. He lowered his head and set off down the tunnel that led through his caves. "You wanna learn something; you have to learn it the hard way."

Several miles above the earth, a thin spectral boy with a diamond tipped staff hid behind a thin cloud that merged with the otherwise clear and starry sky. He let out a relieved sigh and smiled as he triumphantly watched the Nightmare King carry the baby into his caves and disappear into the darkness.

Excellent. Pitch had done exactly what Manny had intended him to do. Now all that was left was the final stage of his plan. A plan which would finally, finally, bring the Boogeyman back to what he was before. All they had to do was wait.

Nightlight let out a joyful laugh, then shot off into the sky. Off to play a game of moonbeam tag.

Soon.


	8. Broken Walls

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Broken Walls

The Nightmare King was ripped from the realm of dreamless, peaceful slumber for the second time in less than 48 hours. But this time it was by a ravenous outcry of fear. It echoed throughout the shadows like the shrieks of a possessed banshee, calling out to both himself and his nightmares.

Pitch Black had always been able to sense fear. It was what he was, after all. His entire being, in fact. He knew of the fears that lived in the hearts of every being on the planet; human, beast, or spirit. He lived on it, breathing it in like a human breathed air. He'd become accustom to sensing spikes of fear that were large and even some major ones that had resulted in a hospitalization, even death. But for someone's fear to have become strong enough to wake him, it must have been incredibly powerful as well as incredibly dangerous.

"Somebody's having one hell of a nightmare," he muttered quietly as he finally started coming to. His eyes slowly slid open and made the slight transition from one darkness to another. The change was never much, but it still somehow had the ability to give him a headache every damn time he woke up.

His eyes finally adjusted to the minute light that filled the room and he gave an unconscious smile as they fell upon the small form that was curled into his chest, still sleeping soundly.

His smile widened slightly as he noticed the small nightmare horse running in circles above her.

When this had first happened he had been completely outraged. His nightmares knew that under no circumstances were they ever allowed to taint the dreams of a child this young. And he had given them clear warning about what would happen should even a single grain of nightmare sand touch this child.

There were unwritten rules in the spirit world. And that was specifically one of them. No spirits were allowed to influence or interfere with infants in any possible way. There would be too much risk of endangering them. And while this child certainly wasn't human the basic principles of these rules still applied to her.

The last thing a baby should ever experience is a nightmare that could make a teenager wake up screaming. That would be far too dangerous.

The second he had seen her having a nightmare he was livid. He was more than ready to go and obliterate any of his foolish creatures who had dared disobey him and touch the girl. He immediately dissolved her nightmare, only for it to reform again on its own in seconds. His jaw dropped and he stared dumbfounded at the girl when this had happened. To be quite honest he had been doing that more and more since the moment he had first found her.

Normally this wasn't possible. Only in extreme circumstances could people create dreams of their own. Or their memories were somehow manifesting themselves as dreams.

Yet the nightmare reformed all on its own. It wasn't normally possible, and definitely not normal. But nothing about this girl seemed to be normal anyway. In all retrospect he really shouldn't have been as surprised as he had.

But despite the nightmare, the child was as calm as ever. And he could just make out a small smile on the girls lips as it went on.

The intensity of the nightmare witch had awoken him was beginning to bring his migraine back; they always gave him headaches when they were that large. Pitch had been utterly tired when he'd come back with the baby. His head had been pounding from sleep deprivation and all he'd wanted to do was rest for a few short, sweet hours, but the little girl wouldn't have it.

Pitch chuckled, remembering her actions when he had first brought her home.

Several hours ago

The first thing Pitch had done when he entered his main caves was summon a good portion of his Nightmares to him. The baby was resting silently in his arms, but he knew she would wake up soon and when she did, he needed to be prepared. Babies took time, patience, and quite a lot of things that he didn't have, so he sent each off on specific duties to collect items he would need when she woke up. Procuring formula and diapers, bottles and anything else the girl might need.

"Clothes and pacifiers," he said, pointing to one Nightmare. That Nightmare immediately took off. "Bottles." he pointed to another. It left. "A cradl- wait, no, I'll just make one of those." He said, waving the hand that wasn't supporting the baby and creating a pitch black cradle- no pun intended- from his nightmare sand. It was basic in construction, but, like everything he made, elegant. It stood on sturdy black beams with that ended in a light curve to gently rock the girl back and forth as she slept; but the flat part where the baby was supposed to sleep was coated with a thin layer of black sand.

Pitch had been experimenting for years with nightmare sand and he knew its limits. It couldn't hurt a child on its own unless it was in the form of a nightmare, or it touched a sensitive part of the child like the mouth or the eyes. If that happened the child would be briefly subjected to a disgusting taste or horrid sight, and that would be it. He would arrive, disintegrate the sand and allow the child a dreamless, nightmare-less sleep.

The crib would make for a calm, gentle sleep for her and wouldn't disturb her rest with bad dreams. The sand would do as commanded and wouldn't bother her, nor would the Nightmares. It was perfect.

Speaking of the Nightmares. . .

"The rest of you," he said, looking back up at the dark horses. They all reared back a little, suddenly afraid of their master. There was steel in his eyes. He still hadn't forgiven them for turning on him, and he never would. "You know very well that if you touch this girl, you will pay for it. Not only will you pay for it, but you will cease to exist. Am I clear?"

Clear master, the remaining nightmares nickered nervously and shifted on their hooves.

"Good. Now go!"

They went.

Pitch sighed. "There, I feel better already." he muttered, he summoned the shadows and had them surround the cradle, silently ordering it to be taken to his bedchambers, and he soon followed. He knew that, after that warning, the Nightmares wouldn't dare touch her. But still, he felt an obligation to keep her as close as possible.

When he reached his room, he motioned for the cradle to move itself into a corner and it did. Then he slipped his hands under the bundle of cloth that covered the girl and set her down amongst the sand. He needed a break.

Unfortunately, this child seemed to have motion sensors sewn into her hands because the second his fingers left her wrappings and her loose grip fell from the seam of his robes, her eyes flashed open. She immediately started fussing. Kicking at her blankets and making irritated noises.

"Hey now," Pitch said, swiftly picking her back up again. "Knock that off!"

But he needn't have told her. As before, she quieted instantly.

He gave her a look. "Holding me hostage again?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She gurgled happily, smiling at him.

"Oh I see how it is." he said in a mock-angry tone. "Fine then. You want to stay with me so badly?"

At this point he was sick of swearing she had done something and, when he thought she nodded, he nodded back.

"Alright. Then I'm going to sleep."

He crossed the room to his bed and laid her down on the blankets. "It's just for a minute!" He protested when she started fussing again. "I need to get my robe off!"

She ether ignored his reasoning or maybe she just couldn't understand it- anyone would normally guess the latter but he wasn't so sure at this point- and didn't quiet down until he had picked her up again, now cradling her against his pale-gray chest. "Better?" he asked, looking down at her pale little face. It lit up the room around them and, though it was bright and he hated bright things, Pitch didn't look away.

She gurgled again and rubbed her cheek against his chest.

Pitch couldn't help but laughed at how clingy she was. "I'll take that as a yes." After climbing into his bed and lying the little girl next to him, still wrapped up in her blankets, Pitch laid his head down on the pillow and sighed. "Finally. Sleep!"

However his euphoria was quickly shattered.

Despite her wanting not to leave his side, apparently the little girl did not want to do what he wanted to do and so began the epic bed battle.

At first, it was just wiggling. Pitch tightened his arm around her- not too much, but just enough to keep her from getting away if she chose to crawl. Then she started rolling and Pitch shifted his body until it closed her in, putting her between his chest and the pillow.

"No." he said, not opening his eyes. "Sleep."

But she didn't want to sleep.

She wanted to roll, and coo, and kick, and nuzzle.

That last one Pitch found particularly hard to fight because even he had to admit it was just too damn adorable. She rubbed her nose against his chest and her forehead under his chin, both of which tickled and he had to restrain himself from laughing. He tried to move his head, but she wouldn't have it. She started fussing louder than before and Pitch was forced to sit up and look at her with a slightly miffed expression on his gray face.

"Now you listen here missy," he said, pointing to her with a long finger. She reached up and forced the finger into her mouth. "Hey!" Pitch said, whipping the finger away and rubbing it on the sheets. "I'm trying to be serious!"

She blinked up at him with those innocent eyes and he sighed.

"Listen, I don't know if you can understand me, and I've clearly lost my mind to even think that maybe you can, but I need rest." he said, hoping that she understood him. "It's daylight in a few hours and I have to get enough sleep to be able to make up for last night. If you keep disturbing me, I will put you in that crib, crying or no crying."

Her eyes widened and he chuckled.

"Horrifying thought? Good. It's nice to know I at least have some power to scare children anymore." He slammed his head against the pillow and pulled her close. "Now sleep. I'll deal with the rest tomorrow."

This time, she actually did what he asked and laid down against his chest, curling into a little ball and putting her thumb in her mouth. They were both asleep within minutes.

He found the girl having a nightmare when he awoke again to the sound of shifting sands only a few hours later. After he had discovered that she was somehow creating her own nightmares (and when he finally managed to slip out of shock over it) he had just gone back to sleep. For whatever reason the nightmare wasn't bothering her and at this point he was just thinking Oh to hell with it! The nightmare was not his creation so there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

And now he was up again, driven from the realm of dreamless sleep back to the real world. He sighed and tried to lower his head back onto the pillow, but he couldn't properly lie down due to the small bundle that had wiggled somehow over to his spot on the bed.

He frowned, then moved her over so that he could sleep again. "Takes my spot," he grumbled, laying his head down and closing his eyes. "Little-" his voice trailed off into mumbling and then nothing as sleep began to pull him back.

Unfortunately, now that he was awake that bit of fear that had woken him wasn't going to be ignored.

It nagged at him, begging him to come and look. He tried to resist, but it was his job after all. And after realizing that, until he checked out this powerful nightmare, he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep; he sighed and sat up again.

An unconscious smile graced his lips as the little girl curled into his side even more and gave a small wine of protest whenever he tried to move. Her small hands coming up to loosely grab the seam of his robe like she always did when he held her, only this time the robe wasn't there and she scrabbled against his bare flesh with her blunt little fingers. He tried not to, but a small laugh escaped his throat and he allowed himself a smile.

Something is definitely wrong with me, he realized as he gently slid the little girl into a niche between his pillows so that he could get up. She started to fuss and gave another little wine, so Pitch decided to pick her up and hold her. He slid his hands underneath the fabric of her blankets and slowly, carefully, raised her from the bed. One hand held her body close to his and the other supported her head. He wasn't sure how he knew this, but it was mandatory to support an infant's head when holding them.

He held her gently and began to rock her back and forth slightly, swaying to a tune he couldn't remember ever hearing before. She yawned a little, showing off her lack of teeth, but didn't open her eyes. He quickly discovered that she loved being rocked almost as much as she loved having her wings stroked. It clearly calmed her down and put her right back to sleep.

He stayed that way for a few minutes, trying to figure out just what he should do.

"I can't leave her here by herself," he mused aloud, keeping his voice down so as not to wake her. "That is a recipe for disaster!" But there was no way he could take her with him ether. If the Guardians saw him anywhere near a child they wouldn't hesitate to attack. And if they saw him actually holding a child, let alone a baby, they'd probably kill him first then question his bleeding corpse later.

"As if Sanderson needs another reason to throw me against a wall," he griped. Not to mention the fact that he would really rather not lose another tooth…

But this fear was too powerful for him to just ignore it, and it was growing stronger. Meaning it was getting dangerous. Despite what those idiotic Guardians thought, he did have a job that benefited children and he didn't just let his nightmares do as they please, or let fear run wild without control. And no, Easter did not count.

Pitch felt his blood boil when he recalled how it had felt, being subjected to his own fears.

Yes, that was what he had allowed to happen at the end of the nightmare war. Things had gotten completely out of hand and it had led to his downfall.

"Fear must endure." he said quietly, repeating the meditative phrase that had kept him going each time the Guardians had knocked him down. "Fear must endure." And it must. For the good of the idiotic humans who inhabited this world as well as his own.

Fear was a symbiotic force. It latched on to a creature and warped its mind, made it edgy and paranoid. However this wasn't actually a bad thing. Fear was necessary in this world. It kept people safe and from acting like idiots. Humans needed fear, whether they knew it or not. Where the problem lied was when fear became powerful enough to actually control people. Pitch had seen it happen time and time again, in instances when fear had gotten out of control and the result had been catastrophic. The Dark Ages, for example. The world had changed drastically since the darkness had ruled over a thousand years ago and, truth be told, he had lied when he told the Guardians he wanted to revive the Dark Ages. If only because he knew what would happen if he did.

Humans may believe different, but they were just as ignorant now as they were back then and their tendency to violence wasn't much better. However, now they were far better armed. Guns hadn't been in existence back then and people hadn't even begun to imagine some kind of weapon that could level an entire country in mere seconds. Such a thing could be viewed as the wrath of God or some such nonsense.

And while things like the witch trials were common and certainly nothing to be taken lightly, they definitely weren't as bad as they could have been. While larger cities did participate in what would come to be seen as one of the worst events to take place in human history, things like the witch hunts typically stayed confined to small and isolated villages.

Isolated being the key word there.

It took days to get from one town to the next and many never strayed far from their homes in those times, except to hunt or if their livelihood depended on their traveling from place to place. Thus things like the mass panic over the idea of witches tended to remain confined in these places, and didn't travel nearly as far nearly as quickly.

Now with things like the internet and advanced levels of global communication, information can be spread around the world in seconds. And so could fear.

"The world isn't like it was all those years ago." Pitch said quietly, looking down at the tiny girl in his arms. "What with advanced weapons and technologies, a balance must be maintained, now more than ever. The world needs fear, but too much of it could very well lead to an apocalypse at this point. Or at least mass human genocide."

He sighed. Quite frankly, it wasn't fear that was the problem. It was how people react to it that could release hell on earth. That was its horrible power.

Take what happened in the cold war, for example. Add about twelve more countries with access to nuclear and bio-nuclear weaponry and the kind of fear that ruled the dark ages.

Yeah. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where it all ends up.

Pitch hadn't really intended to recreate the dark ages. He had just wanted to cut those damn Guardians down to size. He had wanted them to finally see just how painful the world could really be. To know how it felt to have someone walk through you like you are nothing. Like you don't even exist.

"Yeah, and how well did that work out?" He growled, wishing he could set her down so that he could hit something and release his pent-up frustration. "They were invisible for a few hours, then that damn frost spirit came back and a hundred years of planning went down the drain." Pitch sighed bitterly. But it was done now. The Guardians had won, the Sandman had returned, and he had once again been condemned to the shadows. "Once again." he muttered.

Still, despite what had happened at Easter, he didn't simply allow his minions to needlessly spread fear without cause. And he never allowed them to give nightmares this powerful. On occasion a mare would go rogue or gain too much power to be able to control it properly and when this happened, the nightmares and fear they caused was far more powerful than it should be, and it put the person having the nightmare in grave danger.

"That's probably where the phrase 'scared to death' came from." Pitch muttered absent-mindedly.

While dying because of a nightmare was something no one considered a serious health thread now a days, and while it didn't occur nearly as much as they once had, it still happened. And he made sure to keep his mares in line so it didn't.

He wasn't as soulless as everyone thought he was.

Pitch looked back down to the baby girl in his arms that was once again sleeping soundly. He gave an irritated sigh as the girl curled into the warmth of his chest like she always did. He would have to trust the Nightmares to watch over her. That was a bit of a risk, knowing what they were, but what else could he do?

He summoned five of his most loyal Nightmares- led by Onyx, his most faithful- explained the situation and ordered them to keep her safe.

"If you don't," he said, giving each one the evil eye. "I will end you."

The Nightmares whinnied something akin to Yes Master, and left. Pitch smiled. "Why does scaring my subordinates give me so much joy?" he wondered aloud. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. Probably just because it's a lot of fun. Anyway. . ." His thoughts drifted back to the child he was leaving behind.

Well, I'm not really leaving her alone, he reasoned. The Nightmares are too afraid of me to make a move against her. Besides, he thought proudly. Even if they do, Onyx will put them in their place. I have absolute faith in her. And he did. He trusted Onyx more than anyone in this world, certainly enough to trust her with the baby. And anyway, stopping these rogue nightmares never took long.

"I'll be back before you wake up." He promised her, gazing down at her sleeping face with a mixture of feelings that he was sure he hadn't felt before. There was no doubt. He was growing close to the little girl, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to stop now. When he had turned back and taken that winged baby in his arms, he had sealed a deal and taken an obligation to take care of this child. An obligation which he was going to honor.

He shifted her weight in his arms until he could free one hand, then he moved the blankets and pillows on his bed around until there was a perfect little nest for her in between three pillows. He prepared to lower her into the makeshift nest. Thankfully, her infant-abandonment alarm didn't go off and she didn't stir. He slowly lowered her into the nest and covered her up with the end of his black comforter. She cooed, but she didn't open her eyes.

Pitch lingered beside her for a few seconds, then he disappeared into the closest shadow. He was just being paranoid. He would be back before she even woke up and everything would be fine. There was no reason, none at all, for him to be concerned.

He stopped in middle of transporting through the shadows. For some reason his slightly more stubborn and asinine personality decided to take that time to resurface. Wait a minute, concerned?! Good God, when did that start happening?!

Oh right. The second he suddenly decided to adopt.

"I've either gone soft or I've completely lost my mind," he stated with a slight scowl as he appeared in the bedroom of the child that was causing him such annoyance. "Or both. Probably both."

He stepped up to the child's bed. It was a boy, eight years old and a huge fan of dinosaurs, judging by the room's decor. Pitch waved a hand over the child's nightmare and learned that he was dreaming about being surrounded by flames in a locked room, burning and unable to get out. Delving a little deeper he learned that the boy had just lost his parents and unborn sister in a fire and was staying at his aunts.

Pitch nodded. Yes, that would be enough to make a nightmare like this. Strong, hungry for fear, and willing to bend, if not outright break, the rules. Pitch sighed and waved his hand over the black cloud of sand that was hovering around the boy's turning head. The tossing child reminded him of the little girl he had back home, asleep and waiting for him. He shook his head. Enough of such useless thoughts! He would be back in time, before she woke up and everything would be completely fine!

Right?

Wrong.

From the moment Pitch left her and traveled through the shadows, the little girl had sensed something was wrong. But, being a baby, she hadn't reacted until it was too late.

She yawned sleepily and rubbed her eyes with a tinny fist, slowly beginning waking up. She grasped the fabric of the comforter believing that she was holding onto Pitch's robe, so she didn't fuss. But when she opened her eyes and realized that she was, in fact not holding onto the Nightmare King, she quickly began to panic. She tried to look around the room to find him, but she was too small to sit up on her own. Her eyes quickly began to water and soon a loud cry broke the calm silence of the dark caves.

The cry startled the Nightmares who had been standing idly in the corner, waiting for their master to return, and they instantly raced to their master's bed with Onyx in the lead. There, they found a very distraught little girl.

Onyx blinked. The child was making sounds that clearly meant she was unhappy, but she didn't know what she could do about it! Nightmares were supposes to make kids cry, not the other way around.

The dark horse looked back at her companions. They were the most loyal of the Nightmares and would never overthrow their master. But they weren't brave enough to go anywhere near the screaming child, in case Pitch came back and thought they were hurting her. Onyx snorted and her companions backed up a little. Give her some room! She said in the language of the fearlings. I'll see what's wrong. Master will not hurt me.

Your funeral. The other horses nickered.

Onyx rolled her eyes and came forward, lowering her muzzle down to nudge the small child. When the dark horse touched the girl she immediately stopped crying and stared at the nightmare with wide eyes and for a minute, Onyx actually thought she'd calmed the little girl. But then she started thrashing her fists again and Onyx reared back with a neigh. Well, I tried. She whinnied, looking back at the others who were already backing towards the shadows.

They neighed back. Let's go get the master!

Onyx looked back at the bed. The little winged girl was rolling now, side to side under the blankets and thrashing her little arms, wailing loudly. She knew that the little girl wasn't afraid if them, quite the opposite actually. But still, she didn't want to anger her master by letting the little girl scream her lungs out. Plus, her ears were really starting to hurt from the echoing cries.

She turned tail and ran for the shadows, ordering the other nightmares to keep an eye on the baby. If she screams too much, put her to sleep. Don't give her any nightmares. She added fiercely when the Nightmares looked hopefully at the baby girl. Just put her to sleep so that she won't hurt herself.

They nodded and Onyx took off to find her master.

She found him in a matter of minutes. He had just finished chewing out the Nightmare that had intensified the boy's fear and was about to finish up by giving the boy a smaller nightmare that might prove to be beneficial to the boy. But before he bestowed the nightmare Onyx burst into the room through a shadow, startling him and making him lose his concentration.

At first he was angry and he whirled on the Nightmare who had disrupted him, bent on blasting it for insubordination, but then he recognized the horse. "Onyx?" He asked, puzzled. "What are you doing here?" Before the horse could answer, alarm bells went off in Pitch's head and a panicked look filled his eyes. "Who's taking care of the baby?!" he demanded.

Onyx trotted up to him and explained the situation quickly, to which Pitch moaned and rubbed his face.

"I should've known!" He groaned into his hands. He should've known she wouldn't stay asleep!

Onyx whinnied and he nodded, lowering his hands and regaining his composer. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Give this boy a small nightmare, and then come back to the caves. I might need you."

Onyx bowed her head and trotted over to the boy, lowering her head over his. Pitch gave Onyx one last nod, then he quickly disappeared into the shadows of the boy's bedroom, heading for his caves. "I hope she's alright." he whispered.

He began to sense the girls growing fear and distress as soon as he began traveled through the darkness. It was a vivid fear. Loneliness. I'm coming, he thought, trying to mentally calm her with no idea if that would work. I'm coming!

He soon appeared back in his bedchambers and his heart sank at what he saw. "Damn it all!" He swore, rushing over to the bed. Nightmares were crowded around the girl, but he saw no sand flowing over her head. They weren't bothering her. Good, he thought, picking her up and cradling her close. Good for them.

Where the baby silenced immediately when he picked her up normally, this time she just refused to calm down. He rocked her, cradled her, and shushed the soft cries that sounded like a baby bird's song which escaped from her mouth. He even tried humming to her, but nothing worked. Pitch sat down. "Please," he begged her, rocking her back and forth gently. "Please stop!"

The baby continued to whine and burble, resisting all attempts to be subdued, Pitch carefully unwrapped part of the blanket covering her and gently stroked her wings, but even that didn't work.

"What do you want?" he demanded finally, anger showing through for the first time since he'd brought the little girl here. "What?"

He waited, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming and just as he stood again and resumed rocking her, he heard a quiet noise coming from the baby's mouth.

"Da…"

It was softer than a whisper, so Pitch originally thought it was a sob, but then she said it again.

"Da!"

Pitch's eyes widened and he could feel his entire body tense up as the little girl continued to cry. There was no way he had just heard-

"Da… da!"

Pitch nearly choked on a gasp as the sound came again, cleared now. "Did you just say..."

"Dada!"

"You said it again!" Pitch stared down at her in wonder. "You said-"

"Dada!" She repeated, doing her best impression of a ball as she clung to his robes as she continued to cry and sob loudly. Even her wings had moved to awkwardly wrap around his torso as she clung to him tighter.

Pitch felt his breath hitch. She said it so easily, like it meant nothing. But it did. It meant something to him.

He didn't speak, or move. He just sat there, frozen as feelings of intense joy that he hadn't known he'd wanted to feel blooming inside his chest. He felt the walls that he had built around his heart crumble with each passing second. Each time the little girl said that one word, a little of the old Pitch Black seemed to fade away as Kozmotis, as the father that had sacrificed everything to protect his child seemed to reappear. Emotions that he had thought were destroyed centuries ago began rushing back to him with memories of his past life. He remembered his daughter, his wife, his home. He remembered everything. Tears were brimming in his eyes as his chest felt like it was suddenly being crushed. He tried to wipe them away, but he couldn't because of the baby in his arms.

He couldn't help the small smile that suddenly began to tug at his lips as he held the little girl even closer. In fact, he really didn't even notice anything besides the child in his arms.

"Shhhhh." he said quietly, stroking the fabric that covered her wings. "It's alright… Everything's going to be alright. Shhhhhhh. Don't cry, I'm here… Daddy's here."

As soon as he said those words, he felt something change. Something fade away. As soon as he said that word, that one insignificant word, he felt a sliver of the black wall he'd put up many centuries ago to protect himself from attachment, from everything good in the world, fall away. Each time he heard that word another piece of the wall crumbled until he was left with nothing but a blackened heart and if he didn't know any better . . . he would have sworn that he could feel it beating again.

Pitch continued to rock and shush her gently as the minuets passed, softly repeating the words he had thought he would ever say again. "Daddy's here. Daddy's here." And like some sort of spell, the baby girl finally started to calm down- her cries softening until they slowly changing into light hiccups and sniffles and she began to loosen her grip on his robes just slightly.

"There now, that's better." he said, sitting her up more until she was able to look up him. "Are you alright now?"

She just sniffled softly and said that word again. "Dada."

Pitch chuckled. "Yes… I guess I am now." he said softly, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of his robe. "Are you finally ready to go to bed?"

She made a cooing sound and he set her down on the bed beside him to take off his robe again, to which she barely objected, then he picked her up and slid her into the bed again. He laid his head down and curled his arms protectively around her. "Good night little one."

But apparently the baby wasn't sated still. She wiggled and squirmed and Pitch sat up, looking down at her with a perplexed look on his face. "What?" he demanded. "I thought we were past this!"

She just looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, not giving any indication of what she wanted.

Pitch sighed. "So you still want to be up, do you?" he asked, sitting up fully again.

She bobbed her head and made yet another strange sound. It was like a low humming, but it had beats and rhythm. Pitch paused and raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you want eh?" he asked her, chuckling. "A song?"

She giggled and smiled happily up at him.

"Oh very well," he said, sighing. "If a lullaby is what finally gets you to sleep then I don't have much of a choice do I? But I must warn you I haven't done this for a very very long time, so I might be a bit rusty."

She didn't really care.

Pitch racked his brains for something suitable for an infant. None of the terrifying songs he knew would suffice, so he would have to go for something a bit tamer.

"Alright, here's one." he said, clearing his throat. And then Pitch Black, scourge of under-the-beds, King of Nightmares, lord of the shadows, began to sing.

"Hush child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and carry you down into sleep. Child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and carry you down into sleep."

And then another song popped into his mind. One he couldn't remember ever hearing before, but it came into his mind like he'd known it for years. He adjusted his tempo and changed pitch- no pun intended.

"Sweet little child, harken to me. In the morning, the sun you shall see." His voice filled the whole room, low and strong, but also velvety-soft and soothing. The baby's hiccups and sobs had stopped altogether and she laid there in his arms silently, giving her full attention to the song he was singing. She clearly liked it. "And if you behave, sleep silently," he rose a few octaves. "Maybe I'll send a small nightmare for thee."

He finished off with a descending five-beat note and smiled when the baby started clapping. Well, she tried to bring her little hands together, but they couldn't quite reach the way he was holding her. He gave a bow, dipping her in the air and making her squeal.

"Glad I could entertain." he said wryly, shifting her into his other arm and raising the one she had been cradled in to wipe another tear from her cheek. She leaned into the touch and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She reached up and clumsily wrapped her arms around his hand, refusing to let go as she looked back up at him, her eyes wide and innocence. Shining like silver in the gloom of the shadows.

She beamed up at him and Pitch smiled back down at her. It had been so long since he'd seen a child smile because of him. Too long.

Her eyes are truly beautiful, he thought as he stared down at her. They look like little twin moons.

Streaks of black and white flowed together like water. Pitch absentmindedly thought back to the storm that had brought the girl to him. A cyclone of shadows and moonlight. He remembered the way they almost complimented one another and the way they combined, dancing and flashing together in perfect harmony. Perfect cadence.

Cadence. . .

"Kadence..." he whispered softly, looking down at the little girl. "Balance."

The little girl's eyes widened at the sound of the word and her head tilted adorably to the side in confusion, still refusing to let go of hugging his wrist.

He chuckled again as he lightly tapped her little noes with his still captured hand. All her fussing and tears were suddenly forgotten as she gave a musical laugh and held on to him tighter, back to giggling happily as she squirmed and bounced excitedly in his arms.

Pitch let a full on laugh escape him this time as he held the bouncing child. "Kadence. I think it suits you rather well. What do you think little lady?"

She giggled and gurgled happily as she began to cuddle with his arm again and she gave a little yawn.

Kadence. Balanced and in harmony. It was the perfect name for the girl. After all, what else could you call a child born from shadows and moonlight?

Pitch watched silently as the baby girl, his baby girl, continued to squirm and laugh happily. Smiling softly at the little angel that had fallen from the sky, he finally began to realize just how much had been missing from his life since he had become the Nightmare King. But now he had finally found the missing piece. Ironic isn't it? Who would have ever thought what he was missing was what everyone, himself especially, assumed he'd never wanted.

Pitch headed back to his bed. The girl was clearly tiring and he wasn't as full of energy as he pretended. "Alright then, Kadence." he said, tucking her back into the nest and curling his arm around her. "Now it really is time to sleep."

She gurgled happily and this time, she didn't fight.

Pitch closed his eyes, thinking about this day. In less than forty-eight hours he had rescued a baby angel, learned that said baby couldn't live without him, comforted her and had even sung to her. He could vaguely remember the last time he had sung to his child. The night before he left to guard the fearling prison.

The thought of singing to his daughter made him smile.

"You're going to make me do that every night from here-on out," he said softly, without opening his eyes, slowly running his hands over her soft black wings. "Aren't you?"

She gurgled and, for the first time in a long time, Pitch went to sleep with a smile on his face.


	9. Trial, Error and Horrid Color

Of Shadows and Moonlight

Trial, Error and Horrid Color

Warmth.

That was the first thing Pitch Black's mind registered when he began to regain consciousness. He felt warmth all around him. It wrapped around his body like a cocoon accompanied with a lush softness that he began to vaguely recognize as his sheets and bed, along with a few other things he wasn't quite able to identify in his semiconscious state.

Pitch gave an unconscious smile, half-asleep and half-awake. It almost made him feel like he was surrounded by clouds. A strange sensation for the Boogeyman. Never the less, he enjoyed it before his consciousness finally began to resurface enough to fully awaken.

He first opened one eye, then the other. Letting out an almost happy sigh at the welcoming darkness that surrounded him, and the satisfyingly black that covered everything.

Pitch sat up in bed and ran a hand over his face, stretching his arms out and giving a shudder-worthy yawn as he tried to work the numb feeling out of them from being still for so long. He leaned against the bed's backboard for a moment when he felt his neck give a satisfying pop, though his body still felt stiff for some reason.

He realized why when he took a quick glance at the silent grandfather clock that he had installed in the corner over sixty years ago. It read 2:30 and since he was fairly certain he'd left that boy's room around two in the morning, he was just as certain that it was two thirty PM.

"I must've been more out of it than I thought," he muttered absentmindedly as he rolled his shoulders and tried to loosen the mussels. He really shouldn't have slept that long.

"At least it was a restful-" he cut himself off and his eyes widened as when he suddenly realized something.

He hadn't had a single nightmare. His sleep had been completely dreamless, only an empty void of endless darkness that he was lucky to experience a handful of times in his thousands of years as the Nightmare King. Just how long had it been sense he had a night where the Fearlings that resided in his mind hadn't tried to slink into his dreams and corrupt them, sending him visions of strange people that he didn't know or remember?

He knew that the same thing had happened the day prior but that was only because he had been asleep for less than a few hours. The Fearlings didn't have time to latch onto a dream and corrupt it. But he had just slept for nearly half a day and still no nightmares had haunted him.

Pitch's mind reeled as he puzzled just how this could have happened, and for a moment he didn't remember the little bundle of joy that he had picked up last night that was currently doing her best impression of a ball beside him. Then he heard a soft sucking sound and looked down as his train of thought was suddenly derailed. She was curled up in a small nest of blankets beside him, her little arms wrapped around her knees in the fetal position and her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth. Her eyes were still closed.

"Morning little one." Pitch said, shifting the covers until they were resting over her wings again. "Or rather, good afternoon." He corrected, smiling down at the little girl as she snuggled closer into his side when she felt him move.

It's strange just how happy she makes me feel, he mused, looking down at the angelic baby. She had the material of the sheets clutched in her other fist and Pitch assumed she thought it was his robe. He chuckled a bit at the thought. The noise made her start a little and her eyes sleepily fluttered open. Pitch froze, not sure if she would protest to being woken or if she would just go back to sleep. He silently prayed for the latter.

She yawned and the utterly adorable drowsy expression on her face brought another chuckle from the Nightmare King. She raised her little fist and rubbed her eyes, still refusing to let go of the dark sheets as she stared up at him. Her head was tilted to the side and she looked up at him in confusion, like she was asking him what he was doing waking her up.

"Oh forgive me," he whispered, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. "I did not mean to disturb her highness's slumber."

Kadence broke out in a smile the minute he touched her and she immediately let go of the fabric of the bed to try and grab hold of his robe, which he was currently not wearing. Her little fingers scrabbled against his taunt skin and he laughed.

"Going back to that, are you?" he asked, shifting her so that he had one hand free and brought it up to her bare tummy, and she let out a squeal of delight when it brushed against her skin, causing him to smirk down at her slightly. "Well well, ticklish are we?" he asked, running his thin fingers over her sides. She burst out in a loud stream of giggling and laughter and Pitch ran his forefinger under her chin, inciting another stream of mirth from the baby girl. She was wiggling and trying to grab onto his hands to stop the merciless assault, but she was too slow to catch him.

"This is payback for last night," he said, making his fingers dance over her stomach lightly, only to snatch them away like they'd been burned when he heard a loud cough erupt from the little girl and feel a shudder rack her body.

Pitch felt a moment of panic fill him. Had he gone to far? Was a baby not supposed to laugh that much?

He had absolutely no idea what to do when, from out of no where, signals started coming from his brain and his body went on autopilot. He quickly raised her up and held her under both arms, then leaned her against his shoulder and started patting her back, being mindful to avoid hitting her wings. Her coughing soon began to ease and he switched from patting her to gently rubbing circles into the small space between her wings.

He wasn't sure how he knew to do this... but somehow it all seemed, well, almost natural.

After a few minutes she tentatively looked up at him, her eyes were a little glassy and a few tears were slowly falling down her cheek from all the coughing. Pitch gave a small sigh of relief as he cradled her back against his chest again, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"I guess I need to be more careful with you." He said softly, holding her close but not too close, in case she needed more air. He gazed apologetically down at the baby girl, but Kadence just gave him a smile and small coo as if to say it was alright.

"Still, I should've known better." Pitch replied, rocking her gently. "You're little, and little bodies can't breath as...much...as..." he trailed off as Kadence suddenly looked over his shoulder towards the shadows in the dark corner of the room. He turned around and fallowed her gaze in confusion. But there was nothing there.

He looked curiously down at her. "What are you…" he questioned her as he tried to figure out what she was staring at. She just smiled and continued to look at the wall.

About five seconds later, Onyx appeared from the shadows.

Pitch's shock was so great that he almost dropped the baby. "H-how on earth did you…" he stuttered, looking back and forth from the baby to the Nightmare. She was giggling happily up at him and reaching out one hand to touch the Nightmare as she squirmed around excitedly. Had she sensed the creature?

No, that's ridiculous. He thought, still staring down at the baby in his arms. She couldn't have. She probably just saw the shadows moving or something like that. Yes, that's it.

Onyx slowly approached her master and his new charge, nickering questionably at his confused expression toward the baby girl.

Pitch looked up at the horse and, after shaking his head a bit to clear it, waved his hand and said, "Never mind. It… It's not important."

Onyx nickered again and Pitch nodded. "I'm sure. Now what's going on?"

Onyx bowed her head again and quickly explained that all of the others had returned from their tasks with the items he had told them to retrieve.

Pitch blinked, completely nonplussed, before remembering the order he had given his Nightmares the night prior. "Ah, good. Go tell them to get back to their posts then."

The Nightmare bowed her head again, giving a brief glance to the bouncing baby in her master's arms before returning to the shadows.

Kadence began to calm down slightly when the mare retreated back into the darkness, but she was still giggling and squirming happily. She suddenly seemed to find every aspect in the room amazing and was trying to get a look at it all.

Pitch smirked down at her. "Your quite excitable aren't you little one?" he asked affectionately in a way no one would ever expect from the King of Nightmares, securing his hold on the girl a bit more so he wouldn't drop her and pushing back the black comforter so that he could stand. It was a bit difficult, partly because of the baby in his arms and partly because his body was still incredibly stiff. He really shouldn't have slept so long, he realized, and he briefly wondered how the girl had managed to stay asleep all that time.

She's probably just exhausted from that tantrum she was throwing yesterday. He thought. She did cry quite a lot.

Pitch cradled the girl against his chest for a moment as he debated on what he should do. He needed to get his robe on, but he knew the second he set her down she would start crying again. After a little bit Pitch had an idea. It wasn't the brightest idea, but it was worth a shot. The little girl was intelligent, after all. He could tell that quite clearly after everything he had seen her do. But would she understand him?

He decided to give it a shot. "Kadence." He spoke softly as he glanced down at the baby girl. She had still been looking around and giggling excitedly, but she immediately quieted and looked up to stare at Pitch when she heard him speak.

"Kadence," he repeated slowly. "I need to get dressed, so I'm going to have to put you down for a second. I promise I'm not going anywhere this time. So can you be a good girl for just a moment and not cry when I put you down?" He kept eye-contact with her the entire time and the entire time he spoke she showed not a single sign that she'd heard him. When he finished she blinked up at him, tilted her head to the side again and let out another soft coo. Clearly having no idea what he had just said.

Well, not much harm in trying I suppose. Pitch sighed, slowly leaning forward to lay her back down on top of the black sheets. Let's hope she gets it.

She didn't. As soon as the girl felt the soft fabric below her she immediately reacted. Her silver eyes widened, already brimming with tears, as she quickly reached up to grab onto the Nightmare King's hand with a shrill cry. "Da!"

Not again! He swiftly picked her up again, making calm shushing sounds and rocking her back and forth gently as she tried to curl back up into a ball. "I'm sorry," he said as he frantically tried to calm her down. The baby had fear radiating off of her in waves and it wasn't hard to pinpoint the source. She thought he was going to leave her alone again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She wasn't crying full tears yet but she was already sniffling and, though he couldn't see much of her face, he could tell her lower lip was quivering slightly. Apparently yesterday had left more of an impact on her then he had originally thought.

Pitch felt a twinge of guilt go through him when he realized just how much he had scared the little girl. Pretty ironic, the Boogeyman actually feeling bad about scaring a child, but she was only a baby. His baby. From the moment she had met him Kadence had not shown an ounce of fear toward him, and he didn't want her to. He didn't want her to be afraid, not of him.

He raised his hand to stroke the soft black feathers on the wing that was partially exposed from beneath the black blanket that was still loosely wrapped around the child. "Daddy's here," he said gently, holding her close. "Daddy's here. I promise I won't try to leave you again."

After a while, Kadence's sniffles began to slow and finally stopped. Then she uncurled herself to stare up at him. The look she gave him was reminiscent of that of a kicked puppy and he felt his heart clench with guilt.

"D…dada?" she whimpered.

Pitch continued to rock her. "Yes little one. I'm right here." he soothed. "And I'm not leaving."

Once she had completely calmed down and was sitting in his arms, docile again, Pitch began berating himself for even thinking that that had been a good idea.

I knew she would cry, I knew it! So why, in the name of the seven rings of hell, did I do it?!

Pitch sighed. "Because children are just so reasonable." He quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically towards the ceiling before gazing back down to the little girl in his arms. She looked back up and stared at him with wide eyes that practically radiated innocence. "Still, I really shouldn't have expected anything different after yesterday. Should I?" he asked, knowing full well that he wouldn't get a response from the girl.

She tipped her head to the side and blinked up at him with a questioning look, an emotion behind her silver eyes that he couldn't quite place as she whispered softly. "Da."

His eyes widened before softening slightly as he let lose another long sigh. Unable to help the small smile that began tugging at the corners of his lips as a light chuckle began to rise from his thought.

"Yes, 'Da'." He said. "Though I believe we've already established that. Unless you'd like to choose a different endearment?" He questioned almost teasingly as he ran his hand over her obsidian wings once more, then bringing up a gray finger to lightly tap her little pale nose. "Papa, perhaps? Dad? I'm rather fond of the powerful and commanding word Father. How about that one?"

He didn't quite know why she liked it when he did that; the bopping on her nose, but just like she had the night before she gave a little musical laugh. Her fear of him leaving her alone was forgotten for the moment as she cooed happily, beaming up at the Nightmare King and bouncing lightly in his arms.

Pitch smiled at the excited little girl while shaking his head slightly. "What on earth am I going to do with you?" He asked, grinning down at her in a way that he hadn't looked at anything in such a long time. It felt so good to smile again, though not as good as it felt to smile because of another living being, particularly a child.

She giggled back up at him and cooed softly. Fluttering her free wing and causing him to laugh when the soft feathers brushed against his bare skin.

"Alright, alright." he conceded. "You win little lady. You're staying with me." He knew that he wasn't just going to leave her alone after what happened last night, but she didn't. All she knew was that she had woken up alone and scared in the darkness. And she was afraid of it happening again.

Kadence gave another musical laugh as she bounced and clapped her hands. And Pitch couldn't help but once again suspect that the baby girl could actually understand what he had said, though she seemed to be able to do that only when it was convenient for her.

He knew that it was impossible, but so where more than half the things he had seen since he had first found this girl. He briefly wondered just how many other impossible things the girl could prove wrong to him before this day was out.

Quite a lot. The answer rang in his head and it made him give pause, but Pitch Black had dealt with much more that an infant with wings in his time and he was confident that he could cope with whatever she had in store for him.

Later, he would sit and reflect about how completely and utterly wrong he was.

He carefully folded her free wing against her back and loosely swaddled her in the black blanket he had first found with her, and cradled her back against his chest. He had had a second idea about how he was going to manage to get himself dressed while not having to set the girl down when he was comforting her, but it would be slightly tricky and a complete pain. Still, he didn't really have much of a choice.

He secured his hold on her so that she was balanced in one arm, then grabbed his discarded robe with his free hand and slowly maneuvered his arm through the sleeve. Then he gave an irritated huff when he realized that he had put it on backwards. "Stupid robe," he muttered.

After he had finally gotten one arm through correctly, he switched Kadence to the other arm. Up till now she had been more or less calm and cooperative, but now she had suddenly decided to have a little fun with the Nightmare King.

Just as he was about to slip his other arm through the sleeve, the little girl suddenly grabbed onto the end of it and pulled, causing it to slip off his shoulder and fall to the side.

Pitch glared halfheartedly down at the baby girl who just grinned innocently up at him, still holding tightly to the edge of the sleeve in her tiny fists. He could practically hear her asking "What'd I do?" in the most sickeningly sweet voice possible.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be then is it?" He asked down at the little girl, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to sound in control. The baby just laughed again and gurgled happily, snuggling with the end of the black sleeve.

Pitch could feel his eye begin to twitch slightly as he did everything in his power not to smile at just how damn adorable the little girl was acting. Half of his brain was screaming, demanding he be strict with her and remain in control, while slightly questioning just how in the hell he had gotten himself into this situation in the first place. And the other half had somehow gotten completely off topic and- for whatever reason Moon only knows- was contemplating what kind of stuffed animal he needed to get her when this was all over, just so he could watch her do this again.

Oh yeah. He'd finally gone off the deep end.

He shook his head to dismiss his unnecessary thoughts for the moment, making a mental note to return to the stuffed animal situation at a later time. He was still attempting to keep himself from smiling at her antics, nearly having to bite down on his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Alright missy. That's more than enough of that." He spoke as sternly as he possible could, reaching up and grabbing the sleeve of his robe.

But the little girl was far from done.

Apparently, winged children were stronger than the regular, garden-variety because she had a death grip on the black cloth and was able to nearly pull it out of his hand when he tried to pull it out of hers. He gave another forced glare toward her, but she just beamed and laughed up at him, thinking this new little game of hers was far more amusing then he did.

If anyone were actually to come down into the Nightmare King's home at this time, they would have seen a group of about five or so Nightmares standing behind the grand ebony door that lead to their master's bedchambers who also thought this quite amusing. A few would be looking curiously at the door and at each other, wondering what the heck was going on, while the rest would actually be snickering at whatever they heard that was taking place behind the door.

"No, stop it. I said let g- Knock it off! You're going to be in big trouble if you don't start listening to- How are you this strong?!"

Their little game of tug-of-war lasted for a good five minutes before Pitch was finally able to get her to let go of his robe.

The little girl gave a small wine of protest when she lost her grip on the black cloth and looked up at the Nightmare King with wide, pleading eyes. Her lip wobbled for effect.

"Oh don't you look at me like that." He said while smirking down at the little girl. "I won fair and-" Pitch abruptly cut himself off. His eyes widening as he realized what he had just said. Had he actually just allowed himself to be dragged into a game …of tug-of-war… with a child?!

Yes. Yes he had.

The only think that kept Pitch from face-palming was the fact that he was holding the little girl in both hands again. "Oh how the mighty have fallen…"

He glared down at the little girl in his arms who was just back to smiling up at him happily. He felt his shoulders slump as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Little terror…" He grumbled as he moved to put his robe on. The so called 'little terror' just laughed and gurgled happily up at him, snuggling into his chest and latching her little fists onto his robe when he had finally been allowed to put it back on, giving an almost content sigh and seeming quite happy to have something to grab onto again.

"Alright, you've had your fun." He groused, trying to keep the smile off his face. "Now would you mind so terribly much if we actually got something done today? Or is this still a hostage situation?" He inquired.

She just curled more into the warmth of his chest and gave a hum of approval. Pitch had to once again resist the urge to face-palm.

"I'll take that as a yes…" he muttered under his breath. Pushing open the ebony door that lead into the maze of cave like hallways and caverns that made up his home.

Pitch had to shift and secure his hold on the little girl more than once as she began to bounce and wiggle in his arms. But the little girl took no notice in this. She just continued to gurgle and coo, turning and trying to look at every aspect of the dark caves as the Boogeyman made his way down the shadowy corridors. She giggled whenever she spotted a Nightmare pass by through the shadows, and reached out to touch the ones who came to get a closer look at the little winged girl.

It would seem that every dark horse in the Nightmare King's army was curious about the strange child with silver eyes. Besides the Burgess children, none of them had ever encountered a child who did not fear them. And while each had become aware of her presence, and their King's orders regarding her, many of the dark horses wanted to get a look at the baby girl for themselves.

The two soon came into a part of the caves main chamber. The little girl's eyes widened in curiosity and wonder- Pitch mentally grimaced at the latter -as she looked up at the hundreds of empty black cages that adorned the ceiling of the dark cave.

The Nightmare King quickly took notice that a large number of the cages were missing, leaving only the chains that had held them behind. They had fallen to the ground when the Nightmares had gone briefly psychotic the day before, running into each other and the walls of the caves before he had finally managed to make them settle down.

He made his way over to one end of the cavern near open amphitheater that held a large, hollow globe, momentarily down casting his eyes as he walked passed to avoid glancing at the thousands of tiny lights that covered the iron sphere, knowing full well that not one of those lights was shining for him. He didn't even know why he kept that thing. It only served as a reminder to just how far he had fallen.

He quickly shook his head to banish those useless thoughts. Now wasn't the time for self-pity. He had more important things to be concerned about.

On the floor beneath one of the stone archways in the chamber sat a dozen or so large bags with the items the Nightmares had brought upon his command. He took a moment to look into a few before picking them up, having to hold them out of the reach of the small child who was reaching up to get a peek at what was inside. He knew that if the girl managed to get a hold of one she wouldn't be letting go anytime soon.

With a silent command the nearby shadows surrounded the remaining bags and moved them to the small empty chamber next to his room before turning away with the little girl and leaving the room of empty cages behind.

"Oh no you don't." he said, startling the little girl. She'd been slowly leaning down, trying to grab onto the flimsy white plastic when she thought he wasn't looking and she stared up at him with another of her pure innocent looks. "I don't think so." He secured his hold on her and moved the bags farther out of her reach, laughing when she gave a small wine and looked back up at him with the closest thing to a pout an infant could pull off.

"Demanding little thing aren't you?" he quipped when the girl gave a little huff and latched herself back onto the front of his robes. She gurgled a bit but didn't look up at him.

She's actually pouting, he mused silently as they finally reached their destination- a simple kitchen tucked away within a dark antechamber between the main caverns and a smaller one he used as a sort of living area. I didn't think infants could do that.

While Pitch didn't actually have the need to eat, he did enjoy it every now and again. Most spirits did and there wasn't anything wrong with a few human novelties. The fat man up at the Pole stuffed his face with elf spit-laced cookies every day and he knew the Sandman had some kind of addiction to eggnog. So why shouldn't he be allowed to enjoy such things on occasion as well?

It wasn't anything fancy or elaborate. Just a few black cupboards above a sleek counter top that stuck out from the side of the cave wall, connected to a sink and a stove. A few stools were placed on the outside of the counter top, and a black fridge sat in the back corner near an ebony table with a few chairs. It wasn't much but it worked just fine for him.

He walked over to the table with the little girl who had forgotten all about the plastic bags and was now looking around the room curiously. He took a seat on one of the chairs around the table and plunked the little girl down on his lap as he started to remove various things from the white plastic that the girl had suddenly lost interest in.

He pulled out a few bottles, a small box of baby wipes, and a bag of diapers and set them down on the wood table, just out of reach of the little girl whose attention had been brought back to the bags and was trying to grab at them again. "Not just yet." he told her, setting the bottles aside and opening the clear bag of diapers before glancing down again at the baby girl who was craning her neck to get a better look at what was on top of the table.

He knew he needed to get her dressed. It's not like he could just leave her naked now could he? And he definitely couldn't feed her without her wearing proper protection, should she have an accident.

But Pitch had no idea how he was going to get her to hold still long enough to be able to properly put it on her. He'd have to put her down to do it and he knew the little girl was not going to be OK with that at all. She'd start crying and screaming before he even got a chance to get it on her.

He looked back down at the little girl, once again debating on what to do. I could try doing it while she's in my arms, like with the robe, he mused. It'll be hard, but that's about the only plan I can think of.

And he tried it. It didn't work out. She thought it was a game, just like with his robe, and she played it the exact same way; yanking and tugging until he gave up and set the green onesie that he'd been trying to slip over her head back on the counter top.

"OK," he said. "I can see that this is not going to work." He sighed. "But you leave me no choice. You refuse to allow me to dress you while in my arms and you cry every time I try to put you down."

Kadence cooed.

Pitch sighed. "Alright Kadence, since I am clearly not going to get my way on this, I suppose I'll compromise."

He stood from the table with the girl, pulling one of the plain diapers out of the bag and setting it down on the dark wood, then he began to lower her slowly and carefully down. In the process, the shoulder of his robe slipped a little and he was about to pause to raise it again, but before he could an idea sparked in his brain and he let the fabric hang loose, even going so far as to shrug the entire shoulder off and let it hang loosely over her.

Kadence was clearly delighted at the return of the loose sleeve and she latched onto it, momentarily distracted.

Pitch beamed. His plan was working.

"OK Kadence," he said softly, lowering her farther down onto the counter. "I swear I will not leave you, but you have to be a good girl. Otherwise I can't put this on you and you'll probably freeze. You have to be a big girl and let me do this, do you understand?"

Kadence was too preoccupied with the robe sleeve to pay any attention to him. He smiled.

"Alright then."

He laid her on the counter, carefully bending so that the robe sleeve wouldn't tug and she wouldn't feel like he was leaving, then he reached over and grabbed a blanket from the bag of clothes, laying it out and then setting the diaper and the baby down until it the diaper was aligned with her body perfectly. So far so good. And he was just about to start putting the diaper on her when she started to kick up a fuss again.

"Hey now," he chided when she started wiggling her little arms and trying to yank on his sleeve. His hands were still holding her, so she wasn't mad about that. "Stop it. I can't have you running around wrapped in that blanket all of your life, now can I?"

She giggled and started yanking on the sleeve, to which he promptly put a stop by forcing her little fingers to let go by using his fingers as a substitute.

"If you can't behave," he warned her. She cooed and he sighed in exasperation. "Listen, I just need to get this on you. So you have to hold still."

She gurgled. Pitch sighed and allowed her to take hold of the sleeve again. At least that pacified her, for now. Ceasing his chance, he quickly let go of her hand to try and strap the diaper on. She immediately began to panic and fuss. The thought of him leaving her alone fueling terror which Pitch could clearly sense, but before she could manage to give out the sharp cry that was building in her throat, Pitch quickly placed his hand over hers again.

"Shh," he whispered. "It's alright."

He gazed down into deep pools of watery, silver eyes that were wide and pleading as she looked back up at him. He held her hand like that for a few moments before feeling her little fist ball up and grab back on the dark fabric of his robe, the fear he felt from her lessening just slightly.

His eyes softened as he spoke quietly down to the little girl. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

The girl's teary eyes widened slightly before Pitch once again swore he saw her give just the smallest nod. Maybe she can understand me. He moved the sleeve to make sure she had a tight hold of it once again, but when he removed his hand from over hers he saw her bottom lip quiver slightly and she gave small wine, though she didn't protest further Pitch could sense haw scared she was. She tightened her grip on the black cloth the minute it was in her hand and it was clear from the expression on her face that she wasn't letting go any time soon.

He gave a silent sigh of relief when the little girl didn't start crying again. "Good girl." Then he quickly fastening the tape on the sides of the diaper and as soon as it was on, he picked her back up and held her close, swaying her back and forth gently until her lower lip had finally stopped trembling and the fear she was giving off began to dwindle.

"See. That wasn't so bad now was it?" He whispered soothingly as he sat back down in one of the dark chairs around the table, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. The little girl slowly looked up at him and gurgled, still holding onto the seam of his dark robes tightly as he gently cradled her again.

He was about to give another sigh of relief when Kadence suddenly started fussing. Kicking her little legs and squirming around in his lap. "Hey!" he protested when he almost lost his hold on her. "Stop that!"

The little girl didn't listen as she continued to wiggle; wining and making irritated noises as she looked up at the Nightmare King and back down at the diaper. She reached down and tried to tug at it but Pitch quickly pulled her arm away and smirked down at her slightly.

"Oh no you don't missy. I know you don't like it but you'll get used to it soon enough. It's staying on." He stated when the little girl looked back up at him. She continued to squirm and gave him one last wine and a pleading look before calming down a bit. She stopped kicking but was still wiggling slightly, clearly annoyed with the thick padding but seeming to understand that it wasn't coming off.

Pitch chuckled slightly when the girl finally gave up with a small huff, bringing up her knees to her chest as much as the thick diaper would allow her to and snuggling back into his chest. She gurgled and mumbled softly as her eyes began to flutter closed, seeming as if she were about to fall back into a peaceful sleep.

"Ah, no sleeping now little lady. We're not done yet." He grinned down at the baby girl as he shifted her to his other arm and sat her up, forcing her to stay awake. He silently questioned how she could even be tired after sleeping for nearly twelve hours already, but then he pushed the thought away. If she's tired, that'll just make this easier.

He balanced the girl in his lap once more as he reached into the other bag on the table and pulled out a few pieces of soft folded cloth. He didn't really think about witch one he should use and just picked up a little jumper with feet that was on the top of the pile.

Kadence hadn't been paying attention whatsoever to what the Nightmare King was doing and was just trying to get back to sleep again, until she noticed a bright color out of the corner of her eye and she let out an ear piercing scream.

Pitch winced at the shrill cry and looked down at the little girl in shock as she latched herself onto him again, while at the same time looking like she was trying to scramble away from him.

"What in the name of darkness do you think you're doing?!" he demanded. She gave him no response except to continue thrashing around in his arms. He nearly dropped her once, but he'd caught her just in time and secured his hold on her, still holding onto the soft fabric of the baby clothes that he was about to put on her in his other hand. The second he brought the brightly colored fabric closer to her, the little winged girl just started to scream louder and Pitch was astounded to see the little girl grab onto his robes as tightly as she could and push the hand holding the clothes away from her, screaming and crying all the while.

Pitch gave her a completely bewildered look before examining the clothes. It was just a little one-piece pink jumper with a small flower on the front. Why the hell would she be having a tantrum over it?!

"What on earth-" He wondered aloud, looking from the crying little girl to the pink jumper. "Kadence, what-" But she just continued to cry and cry. "Alright," he said, setting the pink jumper down on the counter away from her. "Alright, it's gone, see?"

She immediately started to calm down and Pitch had to spend a good five minutes shushing her and whispering that it was alright before he could turn his attention to the strange event.

What in the seven hells, could set her off like that?! He wondered, looking at the garment while still rocking the child in his arms. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a plain pink jumper.

Pitch blinked. Wait a minute. . .

Something had just occurred to him and he dove into the bag beside him with one hand, routing around until he found the article of clothing he was looking for. A small pink skirt. He picked it up and brought it closer to her slowly. About five seconds passed by before she saw it and erupted in a storm of wails. Pitch's internal fear-o-meter began to trip like crazy and he quickly set the skirt back, not wanting to spend any more time hearing those awful wails. Well, that confirmed it.

"Oh you have GOT to be kidding me…" he moaned as he ran a hand down his face, stopping his hand just over his mouth and glaring incredulously down at the small girl. When he had set the skirt back and had finally calmed her back down, he gave the little girl a look of complete and utter disbelief. "So, let me get this straight," he said slowly to her, his brain trying to figure out whether he should be laughing his ass off right now or if he should just feel insulted because the only fear he'd been able to find of hers- besides of him leaving her -was of such a ridiculous thing.

He chose the latter.

"You aren't scared in the slightest of my Nightmares, you do not fear me, fear incarnate," Her eyes were still teary and he had to fight to remain calm. "But you expect me to believe that you are afraid of the color pink?!"


End file.
